The Blackest Black

Everything is black, but blacker than your black, with pinpricks of light sparkling in your blindness.

A total black, outside your eyelids or maybe behind the mirror. And it’s always there, somewhere, waiting to crash over you like a waterfall.

You're walking the yellow curbside line, balancing on the edge of night, one slip and you fall onto the black pavement, and luckily it's just a mind's game and you start again. Happy just to be playing.

You've played so long you're no longer scared. But it doesn’t matter because when you get there you won’t be there waiting.

The Choral Rotundum

Every year at the vernal equinox, the entire population gathered for the annual Choral Rotundum. Arranged in a large circle, they sang the national anthem for 24 straight hours. The youngest babes held in mei-tais to the most geriatric unable to stand without the help of a cane or pole all attended.

The patriotic fervor acted like a drug, stimulating the vocalists to fervid attention, giving even the most anemic enough stamina to last the entire duration.

Or perhaps they were aided by the knowledge that stepping out of line or lacking appropriate zeal was instantly punished by death.

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.

Missed The Boat

Silas sprinted to the dock, ticket in hand, shouting for them to turn around. But his charter boat reached the line demarcating the no-wake zone and sped towards open water.

With slumped shoulders, Silas turned towards the shore. He'd been planning this diving expedition for months. Thanks to a misaligned charging cable, his phone had died during the night and his alarm failed to go off. The small print on the booking website had been very clear: no refunds for any reason.

His only solace would be learning that his charter boat had sunk and everyone aboard eaten by sharks.

Hoover Dam

It is a little known fact that Herbert Hoover was never really interested in becoming president. He actually started his career working as a mining engineer, traveling the world developing mines for various precious metals. At this time, politics was the furthest thing from his mind. His simple ambition, if you can call it simple, was to have a dam named after him, preferably the most famous dam in the Western Hemisphere. Becoming the President of the United States was just, in engineering language, the straightest line between two points.

Too bad Hoover's mostly remembered for causing the Great Depression.

Two Step

Mike heard the siren and stood up from his seat, gathering his belongings. The dance continued.

Everyone was charging to the front, but Mike strolled at his own speed. No need to rush things.

He thought of his favorite band, and wondered whether he'd ever get to see them perform when this was all over.

One of their songs blared in his earbuds. They weren't allowed music players but most of the officers looked the other way about such infractions. Give a dying man whatever he wants.

Gun in hand, Mike rounded the corner into the line of enemy fire.

The Origin Of A Species

To this date, she had led a fairly convenient life. No big ups, but no big downs either, aside from the occasional deep grief over the loss of a pet.

But all of this was about to change, the turn of history would change, if not for the rest of humanity, at least for her. She had hesitated some time, but finally made up her mind.

This was definitely the last time she was going to wait in line at this store.

When it was her turn, she said: “Can I speak to the shop manager? Tell him it’s Karen.”

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Open Casket Funeral

Walking inside the church, a woman hands out pamphlets with a picture of the deceased. There’s a room full of people standing and talking. In the corner of the room stands an open casket and your aunt to the left. Tears fall down her cheeks. People walk up in a line and hold her hands, giving condolences. Within the casket, a corpse lays with its pale skin, shut eyelids, and carved lips. Not four months ago your uncle gave you a remote control helicopter to avoid you being the only one in the room without a gift on Christmas day.From Guest Contributor Leif Bradley

Leif is a student of Literature and Creative Writing at Pikes Peak Community College.

Lariateer

When he finally finishes his regular morning exercise, he considers going back through his earliest journals and numbering the pages but—smart as he is—he knows he can’t count that high. He thinks about all the pens he’s ever used, tries to calculate how many oceans of ink he’s expended; imagines uncurling his cursive and deconstructing his print, laying out all of his pen strokes end-to-end and seeing just how many times the line would circle the globe, or if maybe it would form a lifeline out into space to lasso the moon or play jump rope with Mars.From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

Ron.’s debut chapbook, Fallen Away (Finishing Line Press), is now available at all standard outlets. Many of his published works can be found at EGGS OVER TOKYO.

One Cookie Or More?

The pile of chocolate chip cookies on the plate was shrinking. Big Ed put five on his plate. “These are going to be gone before I get back for more,” he said to the person across the buffet line. “Same thing on these brownies,” while heaping five on his overloaded plate. Some shook their heads, but no one said anything. Neil approached the dessert table and looked down at the long line behind him. He selected one brownie and placed it on his plate. When there is a risk of running out, are you a one-cookie or a four-cookie person?

From Guest Contributor NT FranklinNT has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.