The Stranger

There was a man who looked at her deep into her eyes. The gaze was strong. As strong as to peer through her soul. She saw him again and then again. Sometimes at the supermarket, then at the gym, and then at a night walking past by her. She was with another man, but their eyes locked. The guy noticed she was holding the hand of someone else and crossed by him. Their eyes met again. The girl found it pretty strange and in her innocence she told the guy that she often bumps into this stranger and wonders why? From Guest Contributor Preeti Singh

Preeti is a novice cine writer and translator. In her free time she loves to hum and strum her guitar. Also, she is a nature lover who loves birds, plants and the skies.

Echo Of Inevitability

Sounds become muffled. All she hears is an echo bouncing off the walls. For an infinitesimal moment her soul levitates, detaching from the present. She looks at the doctor’s face as words grow inaudible. A silent scream explodes from her lungs into an invisible body spasm. A voice in her head continues unrestrained: ‘She’ll be alone” but her mind allows her to compose herself as she kisses minuscule freckles on her daughter’s face. As chubby little fingers wipe off her tears, she peers into the eyes of Innocence, so intrinsic, untainted.

The headstone inscribes: ‘RIP Innocence. Your life starts anew.’

From Guest Contributor Andrea Damic

Amateur photographer and author of micro and flash fiction, Andrea Damic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, lives in Sydney, Australia. Her words have been published or are forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, Friday Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, Paragraph Planet, 100 Word Project & TDDR with her art featuring or forthcoming in Rejection Letters, Door Is A Jar Magazine, and Fusion Art’s Exhibitions. One day she hopes to finish and publish her novel. You can find her on TW @DamicAndrea, Facebook or Instagram.

Consequences

My fate had been decided and I’m not sorry. The hunger in the pit of my stomach was more important than the consequences. When I barreled my fist into the man’s face and he fell to the ground motionless, I took the bread with my sore, bloody knuckles and ran. Within a day, the sheriff apprehended me.

I’m trapped in a cold, dank, cage, with crawling rats as my friends. I’ve heard other prisoners declaring innocence and then silence.

The sheriff led me outside to a chanting crowd, hands tied tightly behind me, to the noose that awaits my neck.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

Innocence Lost

Robyn watched the memorial for an hour before shutting the television. The numerous innocent casualties grieved her. Eighteen-years-later and September 11th, 2001 remained visible. The screams and falling debris echoed, and the blackened sky that had been full of abundant sunshine before the tragedy, frightened her.

She took a deep breath and poured herself a steaming cup of herbal tea. The warmth soothed her stomach.

Robyn had left her 911 operator job that very evening. The towers collapsing had brought her over the edge and the voices of people pleading for help still haunted her.

Tears formed and tea spilled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Stupid-Cupid

It was late evening of my birthday dinner, and we were having a nice time watching our favorite TV show. In between the commercial breaks we had some small discussions. My friend shared a video. She was narrating the story to me and told me that in the story there is a small boy flying in the air with a bow and arrow who makes people fall in love when they get struck by his arrow. Smiling at the innocence, I said, 'We call it Cupid' and she replied back with the same innocence, 'Oh wow, cupid is so stupid.'

From Guest Contributor Preeti Singh

Preeti is a French language interpreter and media professional who is engaged in writing short films and playing characters for tv series. You can get in touch with her at http://languages-consult.com/

Criminal Intent

Since the passing of the criminal intent bill, it is now up to the judicial system to not only weigh the guilt or innocence of any defendant brought up on charges, but also his or her intent. The reasoning behind the new regulation being that what really constitutes a crime is the purpose of the perpetrator, not the outcome. A person who intends to kill someone but fails is more culpable than someone who accidentally kills someone due to carelessness.

Meanwhile, inside the private chambers of law offices and courtrooms around the country, groups of extremely high-paid lawyers are laughing.

Whispers

Caspar would hear the whispers as soon as he closed his eyes. At first they seemed related to his dreams, but gradually they became detached, having nothing to do with his REM cycles.

The whispers were not kind. They commanded him to murder his family. Caspar wanted to ignore them, but as their stridency increased, he eventually relented.

When the police found him covered in blood and surrounded by corpses, Caspar claimed that it was God who was whispering to him. The jury agreed, and he was eventually set free.

You see, God was whispering to the jurors as well.