Titus

The emperor gave Titus the signal and he plunged his sword into the gladiator. Blood gushed from his neck, and he took his last gasp. The crowd chanted and Titus waved his arms in victory.

Titus’ master approached. “Well done, Titus. There hasn’t been a gladiator to match you, and I hope it stays that way.”

The ground began to rumble. The emperor’s statue fell in a heap, and people began tumbling to their deaths.

Someone in the crowd yelled. “Look at the mountain. It’s on fire!”

Mount Vesuvius spewed fire and rained pumice.

Titus would not fight another day.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Monty Rediscovers Home

Six-year-old Monty, a master of his plastic sword, calculates strikes against imaginary giants while he takes cover behind backyard trees. When his mother’s voice pierces through his fantasy, calling him for dinner, the warrior boy marches home victorious.

Forty-year-old Monty daydreams of being a fearless commander defending his country against terrorists and, at night, dreams of being a superhero saving his city from crime and corruption.

While cleaning out his garage, Monty finds his plastic sword and wields it again, destroying enemies with a battle cry whoop. The brave boy/man rediscovers his inner sanctuary to face his lackluster world.

From Guest Contributor Leigh-Anne Burley

Death Sentence

“Stay,” I commanded, my palm facing him.

He dropped to his belly, those big brown eyes looking up at me. Our gaze hung for a moment, lovingly. He was my only friend, and I, his only master.

I grabbed the package and headed to the meeting point. That’s when I heard the sirens. Four years for distribution, the judge decided, as it was my first offense. It would have been life if they’d found the warehouse.

Four years tougher, I returned. There, just as I left him, was Julian. Emaciated and still. The most loyal gimp I ever did have.

From Guest Contributor Liam Kerry

Learning To Lose

As a child, Pedro was taught that winning was all that mattered. Yet at the same time, his teachers insisted that when he lost, he must do so with dignity. This was a contradiction.

If winning was all important, his response to defeat was at best meaningless. In truth, conciliation towards failure must be evidence of his disregard for the first lesson.

As an adult, Pedro finally understands. After vanquishing his enemies in battle, hand-to-hand combat, or preemptive surrender, he finds it distasteful when opponents act sullenly towards their new master. Dignity is another word for capitulation to your betters.

The Statue

The old master carved the tortured limbs and anguished face out of the stone.

Christ on the cross came from his very soul, he who had witnessed war, massacres and the plague that had taken his wife and dearest daughter, his whole life seeming one long crucifixion.

He cursed the God that had forsaken him and the bishop who had commissioned the artifact for the new cathedral. Tired and sick, he died a few days after the statue was completed.

For centuries after his death, visitors stood in awe before his creation that spoke of suffering and, to some, redemption.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

The Watchmaker

He had become a master in the arrangement of all her beautiful pieces.

A lifetime of experiencing his shattered dreams had made this so.

With patience, he would file down or build up their broken parts until two pieces fit together as one.

His hands of meticulous love removed the heart from his chest and gently placed it within hers.

She raised her head slowly and smiled.

His head sagged downward as he did the same.

With that, she rose, exiting the tiny room.

Opening the door as the sun burnt her eyes, but the pain only lasted a moment.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Who Cared?

Robots Contest Entry:

He tinkered for a year, ignoring his phone and only leaving the house for Wacko Wake or the hardware store. The rest was delivered.

The garage was littered with tools and metal shards. The WiFi flicked on for two hours each night so he could comb websites.

His friends had given up on him. Who cared? He was done. Done with living like an open wound, a scrap of plastic blown in someone else’s breeze.

Finally, it was time. He flipped the switch and felt an electric jolt. The eyes lit up. The battery hummed.

Then it spoke. “Yes, master?”

From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres

April 1912

It is never quiet in the engine room of an ocean liner. I am on the night shift; the lights are bright and the boilers noisy. Suddenly I feel the ship shudder and hear a grinding noise on the starboard side. Something is very wrong. I make my way to the telephone to call the bridge, but no one answers.

Now I notice that water is beginning to flood the engine compartment. I order the bilge pumps activated but they cannot handle the incoming sea water. The sea is a fearsome master; I elect to remain with the foundering ship.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Martial Arts As A Way Of Life

Ken determined that martial arts would be his way of life and so set about training with both sword and spear. His intention was to practice until he was ready for mortal combat, and then square off against consecutively more difficult challengers. In this way, he would rise to become the greatest master of sword fighting.

Training with a wooden sword is not the same as fighting with a metal one. For this reason, Ken spent three years sparring against fellow students before he felt himself ready to fight his first fatal duel.

His first would also be his last.