Two Hearts Beating

I'm very excited to announce the winner of our Robots flash fiction contest is Two Hearts Beating by Marcelo Medone.

Thank you to everyone who submitted stories. It was definitely hard to pick a winner, and it was exciting to see a mix of stories from regular contributors and brand new authors.

If anyone has any suggestions for contest themes, please let me know in the comments or hit me up on Twitter

I led Lisa through the maze of underground corridors. We had no time to waste; the exterminator robots were on our trail.

"I'm exhausted," Lisa told me, panting.

"We have to get to the vault. Only there we will be safe," I replied, without letting go of her hand and moving even faster.

Suddenly, we ran into an automatic barrier, equipped with a heartbeat detector.

"CHECKING," a voice yelled.

"TWO HUMANS, CORRECT," it announced, after a few seconds.

The door opened for us.

Back in the vault, I gave my best artificial smile and was thankful that Lisa was pregnant.

From Guest Contributor Marcelo Medone

Marcelo (1961, Buenos Aires, Argentina) is a fiction writer, poet, essayist and screenwriter. His works have received numerous awards and have been published in magazines and books, individually or in anthologies, in multiple languages in more than 40 countries all over the world, including the US.He has been nominated for the 2021 Pushcart Prize.

Facebook: Marcelo Medone / Instagram: @marcelomedone

Homecoming

Years of content memories awaited familiar arms. Angel wings brushed bedposts softly, listening for command. Good-byes graciously accepted. Passing without fear, anticipating this new journey, unknown. Each shallow breath now numbered, every fragile heartbeat heard. Yesterdays spent letting go of earthly things and people deeply loved. Words need not be spoken, it was understood. No sorrow or regret. She would miss them, but only for awhile. Withered hands smiled, soothing random tears. No pain present, peace her blanket. Voices heard yet distant, creased lips pressed in prayer. Fading eyes searched light, bent fingers directed misplaced hair. Would he recognize her?

From Guest Contributor Christy Schuld

Four A.M. Flyby

Disease shrunk his body to nothingness; pain drew up his limbs, tightening his skin until not even his love for her could stave off time.

Finally, he spread his body wide in ecstasy, unfolding each joint, stretching parched skin that once pulsed strong with every heartbeat. With breath diminishing, he flexed each finger, arm, leg, until he was lifted up and out into the dawn.

Four friends awoke, soothed by the tender touch of a breeze kissing their brows. His soul passed; he whispered, “Goodbye, old and treasured friends.”

It was his leaving hour; it was his four a.m. flyby.

From Guest Contributor Karen Sallee