Medley

Jason worried his life lacked a central essence that defined his identity, and it was preventing him from being his true authentic self.

Jason's therapist suggested he might consider that life is more of a medley than a single guitar solo.

Jason lay on the couch and considered the possibility Mr. Johnson might be right. Perhaps he was trying too hard to be the lead at everything, and it was okay to enjoy being part of the ensemble.

Then Jason glanced the photograph of Mr. Johnson's cover band on the wall behind him and decided he needed a new therapist.

Unlucky Day

Being a leprechaun is a delight 99.75 percent of the time. All rainbows and clover and pots of gold. But for a single day in March, everyone wants their three wishes and suddenly life gets a lot more complicated.

Sean O'Patrick O'Reilly knew enough to scout his hiding place early. You never wanted to be caught because you're scrambling for an empty cave or secluded tree hollow and without warning someone has you by the ankle demanding a million dollars or world peace.

But who could have foreseen an old, fat man's metal detector stumbling upon Sean's golden hat buckle?

So Complicated

Harry wiped his brow as he stood before the giant flaming gates. Looking over his shoulder, the entrance to heaven beckoned, with thousands of newly dead souls waiting to be sorted in between.

"Next."

Harry was jostled to the front of the line.

"Will you be contesting your designation to hell?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Fill out the following in triplicate." He held an aggressively thick stack of forms. "Every claim will need written evidence. One mistake, and you start over. Or you can skip the whole ordeal and enter hell immediately."

As in life, dead Harry chose the easier option.

#Blemished

The comments hit hard. @keybrdwar58 wrote “Pepperoni face.” Certified rage baiter @uplinegeek’s “Wear a mask” got fifteen likes, zero from me. Ouch! Why did @soyzgalz comment “Get a life” just because I asked for advice? @vawaxayaz replied “Boomer talk.” Merci @vawaxayaz. She’s a skinfluencer. Now if she could please give me a follow back. Maybe she’ll ghost me. If she’s not a pretty deepfake bot, bet she uses AI-smooth filters. Like who doesn’t? Anyway, this is the last time I’ll ask for derma advice on Insta. Gotta have thick skin. Girls with thick skin don’t get pimples. There’s my problem.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

Machine Music

"Why do I have to learn piano if in five years all music's going to be made by AI anyway?"

Gale generally enjoyed his life as a piano instructor, but his sessions with Kimberly were an exception. She was the kind of student who constantly wasted his time and purposefully avoided practice, so even her warm up scales grated on his nerves.

"AI doesn't know the first thing about writing actual music. It's just a bunch of sounds that vaguely resembles a real song. Art can't be created by a machine."

"But my biology teacher says humans are machines too."

Roses

Apprehension accompanied me to my car. How would they react? With sadness? Indifference?I placed the bouquet lovingly into the trunk, holding back tears.

The intended beholders knew nothing of its history. Nor of the person who presented it to me. Roses, once of warmth and vivid pink, had crumpled to shades of aged dryness. Like his love did, when he left for another and I didn’t realize he meant it for real.

I set the vase onto my desk in the classroom, for my art students to observe, interpret and present their creativity onto canvas—of a life stilled.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Apex Predator

Brad felt like his entire life had lead to this moment. The weeks of relentless training. The years of cutthroat business success that made the expedition possible. The lifetime of dedication and sacrifice that helped sharpen his discipline to the point where absolutely nothing could ever stand in the way of accomplishing his goals. Not his family, not his peers, not any of the many unimportant distractions fate might place on his path.

Now here he was at the top of the tallest peak in the world.

His guide congratulated him on the achievement.

"It's all downhill from here, sir."

Hello Goodbye

Life is all about the timing.

I fell in love over the course of a several hours last Saturday. I'd only intended to stay out a couple hours, as I was still processing my recent breakup. But then I met Alex. We ended up dancing and talking until dawn, bouncing from one club to the next around the city, and I decided that here, finally, was the love of my life.

It turns out he was pulling one last all-nighter before leaving for a new posting in Olive Branch, Mississippi.

Just as I was saying hello, he was saying goodbye.

Maxwell

When Maxwell slept, he always dreamed of chocolate. According to his psychoanalyst, this was a long repressed association he had with the candies his mother gave him as a child. His medical doctor insisted it was a result of his chocolate allergy (technically three different allergies to milk, nuts, and soy, but who's keeping track). His wife believed it was a sign he should get her a Valentine's Day gift (collateral damage be damned).

Maxwell visited a dream analyst. She said chocolate represents an indulgence, and his subconscious was telling him to live life.

In other words, death by chocolate.

Supercut

Ray slipped at the top of his building's stoop and flew face first at the cement below. Time elongated as a supercut of his entire life played out like a scene on a museum urn.

There was Ray's first memory: being handed to a smelly, strange man, dressed in red and white with a giant beard. He'd been waiting in line with many other equally scared children. While he screamed, the scary, strange, smelly man laughed and his parents took photos and everyone laughed.

That was really the only memory that came to mind. Ray was only four years old.