Mercury’s Lunchbox

The courier waits outside the O.R. A moment after a surgeon calls the time of death, a nurse emerges, hands her a container. He says, “Go!”

She hits a flat-out run. Courier and container speed in her van to the other hospital. Her supervisor radios warning: the patient’s chest is open. Four or five minutes are the bought time, but here’s a red light. Ninety seconds leeway when she’s met by fresh legs at the E.R.’s drop-off lane.

Before she hears if the patient survived, she’s picked up a container with a kidney in it.

Always urgent, never finished. Hurrying.From Guest Contributor Todd Mercer

Todd writes Fiction and Poetry in Grand Rapids, Michigan. His collection Ingenue was published in 2020 by Celery City Press. Recent work appears in Blink Ink, Literary Yard and Pangolin Review.

Undetected

“We’re detectives,” said the teenager in Greta’s doorway. “Like Nancy Drew. But guys.”

“And brothers!” the other boy added.

Greta studied them. “So...more like...the Hardy Boys?”

“Who?” the Hardly-there Boys asked together.

Greta smirked. “Never mind.”

“We’re tracking a thief,” explained the first boy. “He’s targeting Culpepper Lane!”

Greta gasped.

“Vases, television, artwork.” The second boy ticked off his fingers. “Even Mrs. Giovanni’s tiara! We’re questioning everyone. May we come inside?”

“Certainly,” Greta said. “I was just setting up my new TV.” She ushered them into her immaculate foyer, a sea of diamonds sparkling unnoticed atop her head.

From Guest Contributor John Adams

John (he/him/his) lives near Kansas City, where he produces comedy shows and writes about teenage detectives, robo-butlers, and cursed cowboys. Twitter: @JohnAmusesNoOne.

Stalemate

Zach’s eyes followed the dirt path as it blended into the trees. Three couples, the latest newlyweds, disappeared in the last month while strolling the serpentine lane. The townspeople wanted something done, and they expected Zach to do it. He was the sheriff, after all.

Zach glanced from side to side, saw faces—some showing fear, others glaring—waiting less patiently with every second that passed.

He rocked from side to side, his palms sweaty, hoping those standing with him would get bored or hungry and leave. The one thing he knew was he wouldn’t be the first to move.

From Guest Contributor Jim Harrington

Ned

Ned woke with a sore head. The boys would be bailing hay, might have a spare half-one of whiskey for him. Still wearing yesterday's overalls he yanked on wellie boots and moseyed along the pot-hole filled coast lane up to the farms. Fred and Slap-head saw him weaving in and out of the irritated cows. Sneakily Fred poured a laxative into his moonshine. Great craic!

After a few good slugs of the bottle Ned hobbled quickly through the gate back to his stone cottage. Aggie was furious. He didn't make it to the outhouse. Her mother's floral sofa was ruined.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

Nothing To Lose

Tim pressed his foot to the accelerator.

“Hey, moron, you’re all over the road,” yelled the man in the next lane.

Tim screamed and threw his beer bottle at the car. He lost his job, his wife and just found out he had terminal cancer. He continued swerving, cars honking, until his eyes blurred and his head ached. Inebriated and driving recklessly, he crashed into a tree.

“Oh My God!” yelled a jogger passing on the dirt path. “Are you okay?”

Tim moaned before answering.

“I’ll never be okay again.” He backed up and drove away, leaving the woman dumbfounded.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Bad Journey

Rob drove down the back road at excessive amounts of speed. After losing his job, his fiancée, Felicia, broke off their engagement. He swerved into the next lane and an oncoming car approached.

“Watch it, nut!”

“Screw you,” Rob yelled.

Those few seconds his eyes were off the road, he came head on with a tree. His head slumped on the steering wheel, horn honking.

Several hours later he awakened handcuffed to a hospital bed with a policeman standing next to him.

“Once the doctor releases you, you’re coming to the station with me.”

Could Rob’s life get any worse?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Our Understanding

Will you wait for me? I was distracted in the company of voices. Remembered you when I realized the time.

I race, feet positioning haphazardly over cobblestone. Last narrow lane weaves through a city's historic gate, connects me to the main square where I met you yesterday. Where pigeons scrambled for tossed seeds. Tourists watched.

I see you in the same location with the sun setting behind you. Your body pivots, face gestures into countless expressions. Your hands deliver a new story, in silence.

When you see me, your eyes smile. For you know I understand your art of pantomime.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her fiction and poetry have recently been published online and in journals at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Words, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories. Her nonfiction has appeared in flash fiction chronicles and in Wild Lands Advocate. Krystyna resides in Alberta, Canada.