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.

Jet Fuel

Whenever I take a flight, I prefer to relax with a good book for the duration. The last thing I need is a disruption.

The man next to me had his own system. It involved complaining to the flight attendants about every little annoyance. First it was the seating assignment, then the lack of proper meal service, unless he was willing to pull out his credit card.

Spoiler alert: he wasn't.

The worst part was all of his bellyaching had to go through me, since I'd paid for the aisle.

My big mistake was politely asking him to stop whining.

Old Friend

I remember a much younger you, so energetic, so easily scared, so cheaply won over by a treat.

I remember you running in open fields until you realize how far away you are, then running just as fast back to me.

I remember the vet telling me you had cancer, and the impending darkness I endured for two years. When he admitted his mistake I wanted to be mad but couldn’t be. Those years were a gift.

I cherish all the hours that remain to us. I will carry you as far as you are willing and eager to go.

Sledgehammer

Bill had never been so in love. Kristen was to a woman like a sledgehammer is to a hammer. He was grateful that she felt the same way.

He proposed after six months of dating. She said yes. Everyone that knew them said after the first time seeing them together that they were perfect for each other.

They decided to write their own vows. Kristin told a story about telling her grandmother right before she died she'd just met the man she was going to marry. Bill told the sledgehammer analogy.

That's when she realized they were making a mistake.

Person To Notify

"Have I reached Frieda Grompkin?"

"Yes." Frieda did not recognize the voice nor number on her phone.

"I'm calling from the hospital. It's about Ed."

"Ed?" She hadn't seen her ex-husband in 6 years. "What?"

"You're listed as the person to notify. He needs emergency surgery after the accident."

There was some mistake in the record. Why was she listed?

"Tell him he's overdue on his last three alimony payments." It was best not to say, "Tell that bum…"

"He may not make it."

No more payments? But, no more Ed?

"Oh. In that case, thank you for the call."

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Good Boy, Charlie

Even the dog knew it was a mistake. So much had happened at the lake house, and yet, nothing ever changed. Her father stood at the end of the dock, slouching.

Charlie whined and wagged, as if to say, “Really? Again?!”

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said.

“I just want her ashes. Then I’ll leave.”

He stared, eyes piercing, his face sharp.

“Your mother wanted to be here.”

“My mother wanted to be safe.”

Jayne released Charlie from his leash. He burst forward, sending her father off the dock.

“Good boy,” Jayne praised Charlie, wiping the water from her face.

From Guest Contributor Kate McGovern

The Secret To Staying Human

Mom digs her feet under the wet sand of the Atlantic. I stand next to her, wondering if the ocean will remember her and melt her legs back together.

Each wave climbs higher up our pale legs. Our feet sink deeper and deeper. The surge threatens to topple me, to suck me out to sea. Tears stream down my cheeks.

Mom grabs me. “This was a mistake.”

I cling to her as she rushes toward our towels.

She dries her feet. Inspects each toe. Sighs in relief.

My toes tingle, translucent skin spread between them. The ocean’s song calls me.

From Guest Contributor Sally Simon

Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze’s travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.

Welcome Back, Class Of '96

“Do you want me to hold the...?”

The song is about to start, something by Vanessa Williams. His one good hand is pressing on her waist. She does not know what to call the other one, the absence.

He shakes. “I can just put my arm here.” He rests his folded sleeve on her pink shoulder strap. They have been given a wide berth by the other couples on the gym floor.

They shuffle together in silence. Finally, she asks. “How did—?”

He shrugs. “Cleaning the picker.” Somebody had turned it on by mistake.

“Does it hurt?”

Sometimes. It tickles.

From Guest Contributor Brennan Thomas

The Roundabout

We are on a holiday in Greece. Jim is at the wheel and I am navigating our return to Athens from Marathon. The roads are frantic and the drivers insane. We did not arrange for a GPS in the rental car, which was a mistake.

Suddenly we find ourselves at a roundabout. Jim asks tersely, “Which exit do I take?”

“Slow down so I can read the signs,” I bark back. “Is that upside-down Greek “y” an “L” in English?”

The meaning of the expression “It’s all Greek to me” makes sense now.

Six circumnavigations later, we’re on our way.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Unspoken Memory

Memories surfaced as the woman on the balcony leaned against the balustrade, her young daughter beside her.

She had been joyfully preparing to tell him the wonderful news. She cooked a special dinner and waited for his return from work. She opened the bedroom window, breathed in the fresh spring air, and watched the passersby. A group of people gathered near a stopped buggy. Tears rolled down her cheek. There had been no mistake. It was his still body.

She gently hugged her daughter and watched the young girl’s red hair blow in the breeze. The same color as his.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher