I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

It's been three months since you died, but it could have been three days or three years. This time, this forever after, is something separate from our former life. Some people thought you a burden, but I was a volunteer, an eager one at that.

Life with you was never a burden. You provided clarity. Companionship. Purpose. The meaning of selflessness.

Now, this existence, this is the burden. Having to live without you is the burden. Not because this life is bad. But because your absence overwhelms even the best moments.

You are the best friend I will ever have.

Sand In My Shoes

Time is an abstract concept. Yet the seconds, minutes, and hours are woven into the very fabric of existence just as surely as the matter around us. The matter inside us, for that matter.

Forgive me the pun. It may be the last one I have time for.

Understanding time is an integral part of the universe doesn't make it any more concrete. Time depends on where the observer is located.

My days as a young man passed by so quickly. Now, I look down and there's nothing but sand in my shoes. One breath of wind, and I'm gone.

Shadow Of A Doubt

Matthew had always been steadfast in his faith. What appealed to him most about God was the need to believe, as opposed to some sort of certainty born of evidence or innate awareness. The fact that we were blessed with the choice and allowed to entertain doubt was the beauty of existence.

Now, as he felt his life slipping away, Matthew found that his conviction in God was stronger than ever. He had no fear of what was to come, because he was completely at peace and ready to meet his maker.

Except what if he was wrong? Oh shit...

The Problem

Ender the pirate was paying attention. Aliens were among those who called themselves humans. August 2023, alien souls from Perseus arrived via asteroids. Eager to explore our world, they realized the limitations of their ethereal existence. Filled with curiosity, they inhabited human bodies to navigate our reality. At first, chaos ensued as they adjusted to their newfound life. However, through empathy and understanding, they integrated seamlessly. Together, humans and extraterrestrial souls embarked on a remarkable journey, fostering unity, and rewriting the definition of what it means to be alive. The problem? Everyone on Orion were hybrids already with mRNA vaccines.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

March's End

She can feel it slowly growing. All in existence is born of thought. It starts slow and deep, pounding, hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Expectations lead to disappointment, which inevitably gives birth to resentment. Everything buried from years past mutated into fertile embryonies, vibrating, taking on a life of their own.

As March's end nears, thoughts of isolation waver. A new world awaits those who are willing to embrace its damp offerings. Fruitful grounds to transplant the seeds vaulted away, protecting them from winter's crystalline grasp. New vessels to transport thoughts. Pollinating all those she will touch.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Before The Words, There Were Echoes

There was silence in the universe. Words were nowhere to be found, as if all existence had stopped and all that was left was a void of utter disbelief and confusion. How can there be something, and yet it means nothing?

She had many words inside her, words that boiled into nothingness and brought about the vapor of insignificance. She remembered “in the beginning was the Word,” but instead of feeling any sense of security, she lost heart.

In that loss, she grasped the emptiness of whispers and asked the vast expanse:

“What is needed to be compassionate?”

“A soul.”

From Guest Contributor Aida Bode

The Dreaming Man

Calvin approached every situation with the same primary assumption: he was dreaming.

This outlook freed him from the tethers of reality. He lived with a complete disregard for consequence only the dreaming man could fully fathom. It lent his existence a sort of Buddhist clarity, in which only the current moment mattered. He possessed at all times a tremendous sense of self-possession and lucidity, while remaining entirely divorced from the trivial concerns of everyday society.

Now that he had been sentenced to forty-five years to life for first-degree murder, this mindset would be even more of a refuge moving forward.

Invincible

Vainly, her vulva strained to become prehensile. With her digits and her digestive tract things of the past, her vaginal aperture was the only anatomical feature that could hope to get a grip on the handle and shut off the valve before all the veal broth leaked away again. Yes, they would probably replace it with venison consommé, which might well be more flavorful—but existence is fraught with uncertainties. She suddenly remembered that she had once seen a man visibly twitch his large, convoluted, rather hairy ears. If he can do it, I can do it better, she thought.

From Guest Contributor F.J. Bergmann

Self Help

Whenever he did curls on the bench, he had to resist the urge to look at himself in the mirror. He was always disappointed.

Everything he tried, varying his routine, increasing his dosages, upping his protein intake, failed to have the desired results. He'd even cut back his work hours because being here was more important.

Barbara didn't understand. His parents didn't understand. His professors definitely didn't understand.

Every second of his existence was a battle against his oxidizing cells as they gradually lost the ability to replicate.

The gym was not an addiction. It was a fight against oblivion.

Her Weary Madness

There she goes again, completely absurd. Nothing she says is true or worthwhile. But she's livid, wreaking havoc on all of us, destroying our mood and self-worth over invented situations; she, the perpetual victim.

The little guy is so young; does he realize this isn't normal? Should I calm her? Argue? Agree? It doesn’t matter I should know, after 17 years. I escape momentarily…is there a normal reality beyond this, a calmer, serene existence? Or am I fabricating a comforting utopia?

Tomorrow, she won't apologize, or even remember this madness. But it’s real and I must stay to protect them.

From Guest Contributor Henry Eutaw