So It Goes

A brave man killed a monster. He became a hero and was celebrated. He married a princess and eventually became a king. He had many children. Then he died.

An unlucky man was born poor. He made an unfortunate bargain and was cursed. He turned into a horrible monster, was shunned by society. Eventually a man came along and killed the unlucky man.

A unremarkable man lived an unremarkable life. He had good times. He had bad times. He died an unremarkable death.

A thoughtful man spent his entire life trying to make sense of it all. Then he died.

Don’t Do It

I tried to warn him. Several times. Maybe that was the problem.

“Listen to your buddy. She’s not the one for you.”

Instead, he hauled butt down the aisle. All I saw was the dimpled boy from our youth slipping away, oblivious of the cliff ahead.

It gets worse. Under the chuppah, our hero someway somehow managed to screw up his only freaking duty: stomping the bejesus out of a glass goblet — missed it by that much.

‘Twas a harbinger of things that came.

He hasn’t spoken to me in years.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said I told you so.

From Guest Contributor David Thow

The First In A Long History Of Injustices

Sharon was proud of all the drugs she'd done. Enough drugs to supply a hospital or fund a revolution in Eastern Europe. Enough drugs that her memories of the last seven years had melted together like the rainbow of candle wax she'd made for her fifth grade science fair.

Sharon still thought of herself as the hero in her fucked-up drama of a life. At the meetings she occasionally attended, they preached shedding your ego. They preached a lot of nonsense.

Sharon did not win that science fair, an injustice she still clings to even in her most lucid moments.

Validate Yourself

“Don’t expect a pat on the back, just know you did your best,” Ted’s mentor in Rail Dispatch taught him the most important lesson. He was right. Ted never was acknowledged, but years later he validated himself.

In the dimly lit Rail Control Center, while his colleagues were distracted by a stalled train, Ted studied his flickering console and alarm bells sounded in his head. Another commuter train would crash into it if he didn’t act quickly to shunt it to a siding.

Ted didn’t wait to be feted as a hero. He just did the deed and thanked himself.

From Guest Contributor Marc Littman

The Universe's Greatest Hero

As the handsome Captain Cahill hurtles through the cosmos at 186,000 miles per second, his mind wanders back to his finest victory. At the Battle of Vynsenulon VI, when he lured the Gigarachnids into a narrow crevasse and lit the charges above them, burying their army under five tons of granite. His actions that day earned him three medals, one for heroism, one for bravery, and one for valor. Captain Ronald Cahill, the universe's greatest hero.

“I’m leaving you, Ronny.” He barely hears from virtual reality, “Call me if you ever grow the fuck up!” His wife slams the door.

From Guest Contributor Rob Howard

The Librarian

Carmichael perused the aisles one last time before locking up, straightening any book out of place. This was his favorite time, with all the patrons departed, and a true silence blanketing the building.

When he was younger, Carmichael used to spend the night in the Library, reading by one of the desk lamps. He would read as many books as possible, adventure stories, how-to-books, encyclopedias. Everything.

Carmichael was just entering his office when he heard the scream from outside. It sounded like someone was in danger. He ran fervently towards the exit.

He'd waited his whole life for this moment.