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.

Salvation

I release the sewer grate and climb into the darkness, the stars my only light. I stay close to the alley in case German police scope the streets. My family is starving and out of the three of us, I’m the least weak to make the walk, even though I stumble from fatigue. We’re all in angst living in sewage, but we have no other option.

His figure is faint, but recognizable. He hands me the bag of potatoes and apologizes for not having enough, then kisses me passionately.

“Go now, my Sadie.”

Aron, my salvation in this wretched war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Keeping It Together

Option 1: The books I’ve read on the left hand side, those I haven’t on the right hand side.

Option 2: From top to bottom arranged by colour, following the colour sequence of the rainbow.

First, the daily routine: checking the updates, every day at the same time, hoping they announce that during the past 24 hours there were no fatalities to regret, no one was admitted to hospital and all those that have been – even those in Intensive Care – were allowed to leave. But that didn’t happen today. Today, I try keeping it together by choosing between two options.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé SUYS (°1968 – Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and hasn’t stopped since.

Crimes And Misdemeanors

Nature Submission:

Mike claimed to feel bad about the slugs, but what options did he have? If they insisted on eating his spinach plants, it was only right that he eradicate the menace. The more humane methods hadn't worked, so beer traps it was.

Well, maybe methods is an exaggeration. He really just tried one option, sprinkling egg shells around the roots. And he'd probably been a little careless about setting a perimeter, making it easy for the slugs to avoid them on their path to leafy sustenance.

But any accusations that Mike enjoyed torturing the slugs is insulting and completely unfounded.

From Guest Contributor Ally Petersen