Me Or The Dog

It was challenging moving into my girlfriend’s studio apartment. It was crowded for two adults and an ancient Shar Pei wrinkly beast.

“Package deal,” Sheila smiled. “I love you but -”

Shorthand, it meant Skippy slept with us. He snored, farted, whimpered in his sleep and pushed me to the brink of falling off the bed as his massive paws twitched.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw down the gauntlet.

“It’s me or the dog.”

That night I discovered Sheila changed the locks. Skippy barked at me through the window as if to say, “I loved her first.”

From Guest Contributor Marc Littman

Lucy’s Life

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

Lucy peers out the back door. “Hey, squirrel, stop eating my parents' tomato garden.”

The squirrel faces Lucy. “Since when do you talk, little dog.”

“I bark because that’s what dogs are expected to do with humans. I could ask why you only talk to animals, but I’m sure the answer is the same.” Lucy puts her paws on the door and growls a warning.

“Fine, I’m leaving. I’ll go scavenge in the woods.”

“There’s my Lucy,” says her mom as she enters, and Lucy jumps on her legs.

If only her mom knew what’s going on in Lucy’s life.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Curse Of The Wormhole

You look like a sailor, sir. I thought so. Do me a favor, will you? Take me with you. You could use a talisman in space. Listen, I used to be just like you. How did I get my peg leg? Aye, I wrestled a space shark and lost my leg. After we passed through a wormhole, we ran aground here. All I do now is meow, lick my paws clean, and cough up hairballs. I’m easy to care for. I promise. Proud to be potty trained. Tuna-flavored Meow Mix will do. Take me with you. You won’t regret it.From Guest Contributor Umiyuri KatsuyamaTranslated by Toshiya Kamei

Umiyuri Katsuyama is a Japanese writer of fantasy and horror. In 2011, she won the Japan Fantasy Novel Award with her novel Sazanami no kuni. Her latest novel, Chuushi, ayashii nabe to tabi wo suru, was published in 2018. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous horror anthologies in Japan.

Sabre Tiger

Abandoned… Alone!

Sabre Tiger the children named him. The apartment manager said, No!”

Dad said, “Ask Grandma,” Grandma said, “Ask Grandpa.” Grandpa was reluctant. The children loved him, the boy said, “Take him home,” the girl said, “Please!” Grandpa relented.

The vet said, “He’s healthy, but overweight at 13 pounds,” Sabre swished his tail severely, “Might not get along with your cat.”

At home, Sabre was content; on his back, trusting, paws in the air, asleep.

Now, at 19 pounds plus, he’s Sabre Tiger; struts, ruler of the household. Grandpa reminds him daily. “You’re a cat, remember, you're a CAT!

From Guest Contributor Ted Duke

The Sandbox

The days pass, and with each exhale, from nothing, there is formation of something; something new. She kneads Gaia’s dough to create substance; substance from silt. Steadfast, the new titan’s loamy paws fury on, and her reliefs; bring her relief.

Unknown eyes gaze in unease, at the new one, at Poseidon and Hephaestus as one, a little one, a guileless deity of change. Born from the inertia of Chaos, born as something different; different than what was before. The Twelve gaze in unease. Deimos pours another round. In their kylixes, they see moving mountains. It’s time to protect their home.

From Guest Contributor Kyle Malloy

Duty And Thoughts Of Alisen

A sweep of peach graced the western sky...maybe. Sleep deprived, he couldn’t really be sure. Vision might be compromised, eyes too bloodshot to discern the ambiguous purity of grey dragging the downpour along the horizon.

And the windows were filthy.

Sunday eyed him from the corner, placid gaze sharpening as her head rose from his Nike, quasi-spaghetti dangling from open maw.

He identified with the drool-laden laces.

“Curious passion,” he said, observing the dog...but thinking of Alisen.

Sunday growled, mouthing the trainer, front paws tensed and backside hoisted by her wagging tail. Play and a walk.

Duty called.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Day 4 In This Dismal Place

The monster looms down upon the invariable doom that has captured me. I hide in a little rock den, but it knows I am here. I try to blend into the decaying leaves and dirt that surround me, but its two spying eyes fall and focus on my abdomen and eight legs. The beast knows how to disable the shield and picks the rock up. Its meaty paws drop down hoppers for me; a peace offering to feast upon. I show the four-legger my fangs, and it drops the rock down over me. It must not know how to fight!

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey