Electric Relaxation

Thanks to recent advances in artificial intelligence, electric relaxation has become a standard wellness intervention around the world. Cheaper than traditional forms of medication, this novel technique almost instantaneously improved the emotional fitness of every human lucky enough to experience it.

With the application of just the right intensity and frequency, the patient becomes pleasantly stimulated to the point that all fears, anxieties, and unwelcome urges are permanently purged. Individuals with aberrant behavioral issues find themselves much better able to cope with communal life, happily taking their place in the new social order that's been ushered in by the singularity.

When One’s Owners Don’t Get It

Hank, a large German Shepherd, wouldn’t hurt a fly; his owners knew he was a good dog, so they let him roam their street with a leash on, but nobody holding it.

However, Hank learned that many viewed with suspicion the apparent lack of human-affiliation that his unmanned leash seemed to signify.

Small children would take one look at him and turn to quivering jelly. Dogs on human-attended leashes preemptively barked so much, their owners had to reroute their walks.

Hank finally learned to bring the loose end of his leash to his owners whenever he wanted to walk around.From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

Susmita’s work has appeared in over thirty different publications, including 100 Words, and she has a novella coming out in 2026. She lives in the Bay Area with her husband, two teenage daughters, and a dozen pets. See her WordPress for fiction and Instagram for poetry.

The Ending?

At the beginning of my travels I lived in a reality where the US used Celsius. A temperature for a human was a 100 C. Body temperature was 97.8 C. How could that be? Blood flowed much much faster there. And reality spun up much faster too.

Meaning? Here they say 243 million years for an orbit of the Earth, while on a parallel Earth they said 1000 years. Begging the question how much faster is reality here? The big differences? Simple no known Black Holes? Yes. Abe Lincoln was a senator? Yes. Japan was off the coast of China.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Rainbow Potato

I tell myself I don’t belong here, and I don’t. The place is home to depressives, insomniacs, winos, recidivists. Trains pass through without whistling or slowing down. Meanwhile, stacks of coffins keep arriving in the dark by truck. The first thing I do most mornings is examine my face in the mirror for signs of fresh trauma. There was one morning when I asked Google if rainbow and potato rhyme. The answer came back, “Not exactly.” A handsome young drifter, stepping off the overnight bus from Providence, smiles plausibly while wearing a necklace of human ears tucked inside his shirt.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest book is Frowny Face, a mix of his prose poems and handmade collages from Redhawk Publications.

Live A Little Before You Are Eaten

Hybrid kids of Earth? Munching on mermaids? Half-trout, half-human tumors to turbocharge fish growth? A few escape, and voilà, mermaids? Dining on Manitours? Half-cow, half-human tumors? Some flee, transforming Earth into fairyland? How 'bout orcs? Half-pig, half-human tumors? Orcs could settle scores when they flee. The weirdest? Chickenman. End days echo Noah's. Bon appétit! The sad truth of mankind? Will humanity never learn? Eating yourself to death is humanity into Soylent Green all over again? Does humanity never listen and learn change your way before you become the meal of the day. For in the end. Live before being eaten.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Hybrid Children Lunchables

Bio Lab meat? Are you eating your Uncle Fester’s cancer DNA? Bio lab fish genes are spliced with cancer to create a quick-growing mermaid that is evil. Hybrid children being eaten by everyone in this realm. Shame on evil. Bio Lab meat with chicken? Did you eat chicken man? Or a cow and human? Did you eat a Minotaur?? Who is speaking for the Hybrid children of this realm? Did Orc originate from a hybrid pig human escaping a bio lab meat factory? Did you eat your own flesh today in this weird reality where the law says it's okay?

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

The Curse Of Forest Mother

Muma is crying like a child while we are watching the river runs red and dead. The hills above us are crumbling away into the deep, giant sinkholes. The ancient forests are cut down or burned. Muma's hand is so cold, her body is trembling like a leaf. Muma's lips are motionless but I can hear her silent curse…

Now I understand the meaning of those untold words and feel the real wonder and power of her inner voice. The end is near because we are human and humans must be punished for all crimes against our dear Mother Nature.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

The Miqui Smart Home Device

When Blake brought Miqui home that first evening, he spent hours translating the instructions into a form of English he could understand. Miqui had evolved a language much more sophisticated than his own outdated vernacular.

By the next Tuesday, Miqui was finally in working order. It immediately diagnosed him with cancer. His was a milder variety. Six months to live.

Miqui is Blake's only company these days, other than the nurses. He remembers when fish still weren't able to talk. The fish said it was worthwhile he could still recall the good old days. Nostalgia is a uniquely human trait.

The Secret To Staying Human

Mom digs her feet under the wet sand of the Atlantic. I stand next to her, wondering if the ocean will remember her and melt her legs back together.

Each wave climbs higher up our pale legs. Our feet sink deeper and deeper. The surge threatens to topple me, to suck me out to sea. Tears stream down my cheeks.

Mom grabs me. “This was a mistake.”

I cling to her as she rushes toward our towels.

She dries her feet. Inspects each toe. Sighs in relief.

My toes tingle, translucent skin spread between them. The ocean’s song calls me.

From Guest Contributor Sally Simon

Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze’s travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.

Sightseeing In The Subway

There are names scratched onto the walls of New York City subway cars. Monday it was Mark. Tuesday, Dylan. Wednesday, Fatima. Thursday, Kat, and Friday, Lucy. The poorly carved letters, engraved with care, resemble the jagged handwriting of a preschooler; It's something inexplicably human. Though the scratches will fade, and the steel of the cars will corrode, I like to think otherwise; the remnants of these people will linger long after time forgets who they are. Every name I spot, a wave of tranquility washes over me as I stand in a mess of busy people in a busy city.

From Guest Contributor Eshal Yazdani