Daredevil

The first time Ben died in his dream was liberating. He'd always been told that if you got killed while you were sleeping, you'd never wake up again, but it turns out that's just a myth.

Now Ben is a complete daredevil when he's dreaming. Right before he falls asleep, as he's just about to cross into the unknown frontier of the night, he visualizes all the ways he will flirt with danger, whether it's jumping off a cliff in order to fly or walking into a burning building to save some puppies.

If only real life worked that way.

For the prompt Frontier

Dive Night

From the street, the Cowpony looks like a generic Tucson bar. Nondescript, squat, windowless. Cowboy silhouette on the exterior.

Gerry and I wander inside. The back room features an empty pool table. I rack the balls. Gerry breaks them, sinks the eight ball. Decrepit characters wait beside the bar for karaoke to begin. They leer at us and wink.

“This place reminds me of my misspent youth,” I say.

Gerry thumbs through the karaoke catalog. “Let’s stay a while. There’s a Steely Dan song I want to sing.”

I settle into the booth. It’s going to be a long evening.

From Guest Contributor Leah Mueller

Branded

“Do you see the donut,” the cancer specialist asks, sounding suddenly anxious, “or just the hole?” My eyes burn, though tears are 98 percent water. Once cancer touches you, you belong to it, you’re marked with the herd brand. It would take something like a miracle for me to recover. Yesterday, to the shock of tourists, a statue of the Virgin Mary in a fourteenth-century cathedral in Linz appeared to go into labor. Belief is contagious. And so, I lie in bed at night with all the windows open, listening intently to the gregarious insects at ease in the dark.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest poetry collection, True Crime, was published by Sacred Parasite in Berlin this year.

Another Boring Dinner

It was another Wednesday night, and…

“What's for dinner, Rayette?”

“We’re going to have Escargot a la Bourguignonne, followed by Confit de Canard, finished off with double-baked cheese soufflé, Ralph.”

“Oh, no… Not Escargot a la Bourguignonne, Confit de Canard, and soufflé again.”

“Come on, Ralph… Don't complain.”

“But couldn't we have something different for a change?… Maybe chicken fingers?”

“You know I don't know how to cook chicken fingers.”

“I could try, Rayette.”

“No, Ralph… The last time you tried chicken fingers, they tasted like Coq au Vin, and you know how much I dislike Coq au Vin.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

First Star Of The Night

According to the old superstitions, it was considered bad luck to see the first star of the night. Just one of many bits of unwelcome advice Sean's grandmother had plagued him with during adolescence.

He thought about her words whenever he was outside at twilight. It wasn't that he was willfully ignoring her, but he refused to let some old-fashioned view of how the world works to stop him from enjoying the sunset.

What Sean didn't realize, but his grandmother knew all too well, was the evening star stole the soul of the first person to see it every night.

I Heard A Mother Scream

I hear a mother scream. She is haunted by the ghost of all the empty tomorrows, the house that doesn't creak in the night, the silent graveyard safe from superstitious breath.

The desolation of her scream, so familiar, pierces into me. We're both tormented by the life still left to live, unable to excoriate the soul from the skin.

She seeks consolation in her refusal to accept the well meaning lies of those unable to withstand true despair.

I too have that scream inside me, its silence continuing to bounce off the walls, the pain reverberating both inside and out.

TV

The trick or treaters are finally done for the night. Time for some soothing TV. Must be somehorror movie, some ghastly looking character is staring at the camera emoting “You’ll be deadbefore the night is over.”

I’ll check the news. I’ve had enough of scares tonight. Channel 8 has my favorite broadcaster,but he’s decked out for Halloween, I guess. Another monster. This one reads “Sorry, but you’ll bedead before tomorrow.”

Wow, those guys are going all out for the season. I’d say a little overboard.

Must have a really late tricker, someone’s at the door now.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Muted

Late one night in a foreign town, I walked past two men just inside a dark alley. The larger one had the other pushed up against a wall with a knife under his chin. The smaller man looked at me with pleading, terror-filled eyes. When the larger man jerked to follow his gaze, I hurried beyond them up the street. No one else was around to turn to for help. I had no cell phone and no idea where the nearest police station was. So I just continued on my way, hands trembling, head down: voiceless, derelict, abandoning all rectitude.

From Guest Contributor William Cass

Corn Maze Days

Corn maze stocks walk along, step by step, in endless motion. Lefts turned to rights back to lefts, leave us wondering and wandering alongside the corn maze. Eleven in the morning turns to seven at night, soon the moon will guide our way. Apple cider dances while the fire flickers, old folks singing folk songs. Knit sweaters insulate the warmth of your love, arms wrapped around my waist. Shadows once trailing, we now chase. Mama made a pie, pie's been cooling on the counter, calling our name. One more corner, one more corner turns a long day to sweet dreams.

From Guest Contributor Mekah Baker

Mekah is a student of literature and the applied sciences at Pikes Peak State College.

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.