Live A Little Before You Are Eaten

Hybrid kids of Earth? Munching on mermaids? Half-trout, half-human tumors to turbocharge fish growth? A few escape, and voilà, mermaids? Dining on Manitours? Half-cow, half-human tumors? Some flee, transforming Earth into fairyland? How 'bout orcs? Half-pig, half-human tumors? Orcs could settle scores when they flee. The weirdest? Chickenman. End days echo Noah's. Bon appétit! The sad truth of mankind? Will humanity never learn? Eating yourself to death is humanity into Soylent Green all over again? Does humanity never listen and learn change your way before you become the meal of the day. For in the end. Live before being eaten.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Queue For Killing Time

Mow lawn with toenail clipper; count sand. Invite spiders to tea party; pretend you’re the Mad Hatter.

Adopt imaginary twins; cry when they say their first word (“quarantine”); ransack new recipes to quiet their insatiable hunger; crank open doors and windows; demonstrate how to run fingers over wild, overgrown grass; bike them to beach; build castles, mermaids, moats; inhale salty ocean air; watch fire-red sun sink into horizon.

Lift face to pale moon and marvel, “Isn’t it crazy that there are more stars in the sky than all the grains of sand on earth?”

Time killed, savor moment without end.From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson

Michelle’s words have appeared in 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida.

When My Wish For A Unicorn Finally Came True

Unicorns are not a figment of my imagination. They are as real as I am and I know where to find them.

Santa took me on his sleigh with Rudolph leading the reindeer herd. I didn't expect to land in Santa's workshop when I followed the funny white rabbit, but my curiosity always gets the best of me. Santa took me to a place with singing mermaids by the beach, hundreds of scurrying hobbits, and dragons flying above.

I should’ve been ecstatic but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much more I wanted to ride a Pegasus over a Unicorn.

From Guest Contributor, Kristen Lum

Don't Talk To Me About Love Spells

Everyone knows when it comes to doing magic, widows are the worst. They're always going on about love spells or hunting down unicorns and mermaids to achieve eternal youth. None of it ever works.

You might consider my complaints a narrow-minded view and accuse me of the worst kind of chauvinism. I agree with you whole-heartedly that gender prejudice has no place in our enlightened age. But the fact is that widows just aren't any good at magic. Even when it works, it doesn't work anything like how it's intended.

And that's how I ended up with these golden testes.