Traitor

The streets were eerily quiet, and I knew Nazis were lurking around. I stood in the woods and listened to the animals’ noises until I heard footsteps. It was the contact. He said the code word and I handed him the papers. He was gone as quickly as he came.

I was about to make my way back to the resistance when I heard another set of footsteps. I braced myself and reached for my weapon, but it was gone. Traitorous monster, I thought. He swiped my knife.

A Nazi appeared pointing a barrel of a gun to my head.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Safe?

The train came to a halt, and the platform filled with German police. They entered, and people quieted while my heart pounded.

“Papers!”

I handed my identification to the Nazi, and he scanned them, eyeing me at the same time as I sweated profusely. He tossed them on my lap and moved on, not noticing the forgery.

Screams ensued as the woman behind me beseeched the officer to let her husband go, and then I heard a thud. The Man had collapsed, presumably dead and the woman in hysterics was taken away.

A few more stops and I’ll be safe.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Limits

This can only last so long. There’s stuff I have to do. I gotta catch up on work and go for a run still today. I have papers due by midnight and I just put a pizza in the oven. I don’t have time for this. My friend keeps texting me “get on the game.” This can only last so long. I’m organizing due dates, scheduling movie nights with friends and stuttering replies to my mother. This can only last so long. My phone lights up with her face again, but like this poem love can only last so long.

From Guest Contributor Anonymous

I’d prefer to remain anonymous however I’d like to say a little about myself. I am not a writer but a teenage kid trying to graduate. I enjoy thinking deeply and taking the chance to put my thoughts on a page in a creative writing class is nice.

Papa

I slip through alleys to get to the resistance and relay the information I have learned. The black out starts and the only sound is the rustling of my dress.

I hear footsteps and then a voice. “Halt! Papers.”

“Certainly. My father is sick and needed medicine. I had to go across town to the only doctor available.”

There’s something in his eyes that I don’t trust. I stab him through the gut. I’m almost in the clear and then a shot rings out. Blood soaks through my dress, I gasp for air and then collapse.

See you soon, Papa.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Key

I rummage through drawers and cabinets before placing everything back. It hits me then. There must be a hidden key somewhere. I look under every piece of furniture and there it is under the desk chair. I scan the room and come across a painting of the Fuhrer that is askew. I remove it from the wall and find a safe. The key fits.

Inside are papers with the Nazi’s plans. I memorize what I can and place the picture and the key back, making haste through the rear entrance without being noticed.

Outside, I breathe a sigh of relief.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Mammoth

An airplane soars into the mammoth building, leaving a gaping hole. Blackness, dust, and papers fill the air.

Angels fall and my heart beats quickly not knowing what to do. I pace the floor with the others, stunned, quiet, unable not to watch. The sirens pierce our ears, and we stare at one another.

The phones ring with panicking family members crying that a second plane has crashed into the other building. I drop the phone when the fire drill alarms. The sky darkens and we head to the staircase not knowing our fate.

The World Trade Center is no more.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Early Bird Special

Doubled-masked and leaning into the pharmacy’s window, you answer questions that will later identify you immediately. It’s 11:59 a.m. and the Know-It-All Tech, with a bar code label on her wrist and seascape nails, is already sick of the routine: Fill out these papers, sign here and here; take papers around back & sit with arm exposed; face turned to the left, as a cool alcohol swab cleans an invisible bull’s eye. The outgoing pharmacist chats about snow & cold and you barely feel him stick you with the needle. Done, he says, pressing a circle band-aid over your future.

From Guest Contributor M.J.Iuppa

M.J.Iuppa lives on a small farm near the shores of lake Ontario. Her 100 word stories have appeared in 100 Word Story, Eunoia Review, Otoliths, Jellyfish Review, A Story in a 100 Words, The Dribble Drabble Review, The Drabble Review, Milk Candy Review, Lost Balloon, and others. . Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.

Served

“You are served!”

“Why?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Hmm. No contact, the papers state, so I won’t know. Let me think. I haven’t bought her a birthday present for four or five years, but she doesn’t like what I buy anyway. I always turn over all of the money I make. She is a great bookkeeper. No 'out to dinner,' but I cook often. I don’t do dishes. The kids are grown and out on their own. We don’t talk too much. I imagine she emptied out the savings. Where are Ted and I gonna get stoned? Where am I to sleep?”

From Guest Contributor Virginia Timm

Mask

Jonathan burst into the office, waving a bunch of papers and screaming out loud: “It’s all a scam, it’s a hoax. I’ve got proof in my hands. It’s the government trying to control us and all of our movements” as he rips off his oxygen filter.

Just seconds later he starts gasping and drops dead almost immediately.

Proof was indeed given to be very careful with skepticism.

Little did they know he died of acute heart failure.

And that’s why till this date the inhabitants of Planet Ksam are being closely watched and are all wearing very uncomfortable oxygen filters.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

A Mother’s Love

First it was only yelling. Then she sported bruises. The police carted him away. He came back. He was sorry, couldn’t believe he was capable of that. She let him back in. He escalated. A fresh set of bruises appeared. The cycle continued.

She stayed to protect the child. His safety was all that mattered. A mother’s love.

A protection order was issued, papers were served, the divorce imminent. That was the legal way to handle the situation, but not Dad’s way. He wasn’t worried about legal. He didn’t give his daughter away to be slapped around. A father’s love.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin