Yesterday Once More

Dr. Billows pressed Go on his time machine. Inside the vessel nothing happened. But through the window, everything in his lab stretched and distorted into a brilliant mixture of light and darkness, indicating he was tunneling into space time. His calculations had been correct, at least the first part.

As quickly as the journey began, it ended. After checking the console and confirming the date at his destination, he unsealed the hatch.

He emerged into his laboratory exactly one day earlier. Confronted with his past self, he told himself not to ask Dr. Morgan on a date later that night.

Final Instructions

The fight between Lefty Louie and Bonecrusher Rocco was only minutes away. Bonecrusher was an awesome specimen – a huge head, bull neck, and massive chest and biceps.

In Louie's corner, Al, his manager, had a few last words.

“The referee’s going to give you both instructions in the middle of the ring.”

Why a square surface was called a ring Louie didn't understand.

“He's going to tell you to go to a neutral corner when someone's down. Break when he tells you to. Then he'll say let the better man win.”

“What?”

“I know, Louie. Just forget that last part.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Memories

My grandmother tells me not to forget where she is. But she’s forgotten who I am. Would it matter if I was back soon like I told her I would be? Am I even a part of her fragmented memory? She lit up when she saw me (but she could have just craved company). The nurses have to be her companions now. The granddaughter role in her life doesn’t exist anymore. Are you a granddaughter still when your grandmother doesn’t know your name? Face? My grandmother lives in the past now but not the past I am a part of.

From Guest Contributor Olivia Bond

Kiss Your Ass Goodbye

There are always more volunteers than available spots on the firing squad. But the really terrible part isn’t how cold it is out. It’s how much I tremble. The I Ching advises, “Wait in the meadow,” meaning caring for a cow will bring luck. I can remember a time when everyone wasn’t in such a hurry to fuck off to somewhere. Now, whatever phone number I punch in, the suicide hotline picks up. I think about mentioning this to someone. And then I get distracted by the wind and the rain and the loud kissing noises they seem to make.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good