Conspiracy Theory

Beyond porch lights, snow piles up, sealing in anxious women. They stand at windowsills watching the sky glower. Blinking in the fists of children are glo-stix to throw at the towering drifts, aiming where the eyes should go. Elsewhere, a child snaps his birthday gift of a bow-and-arrow in half. The moon rolls down a hill and thunder beats its metal chest, a rattling that distracts everyone from the whir of an incoming drone. It kicks up all the snow but means no harm, though some will insist the machine was an alien ship, come to take the glo-stix home.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell

Hunting

I left the cabin against my wife’s wishes and ventured into the woods hunting for anything that might feed my family. Within minutes the wind picked up and I found myself struggling in knee-deep drifts and knew an arduous journey was ahead. Would there be any rabbits or deer to hunt? Am I the only one who has a starving wife and children?

I continued my quest until my body tired and I had to rest. I collapsed to the ground, snow pelting my face, and my toes frozen.

I closed my eyes and knew my hunting days were over.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher