Something To Eat

“The city is breaking up the encampment, clearing us out,” Olivia said. “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” asked Simone.

“Jail.”

“Jail? Why?”

“In jail I’ll eat every day, have a place to sleep, shower and go to the toilet.”

Simone shivered and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. “Jail is awful.”

“Being old and homeless is worse.”

“How will you get sent to jail?”

Olivia opened her coat, exposing the pistol tucked in her waistband. “I’m robbing the first bank I see.”

Simone watched Olivia walk away and tried to ignore the hunger growling deep in her belly.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

Robert, a US Army veteran and former Biology teacher, lives in Tucson, Arizona. His short fiction has appeared in numerous online and print journals.

Duel At Dawn

The cool, crisp morning air is cold, even in the fog I see my breath. “10 paces I’ll count; 10 paces then turn and shoot,” said my friend. I begin to walk. One. The wet, dewy grass is under my feet. Two. I wore my best clothes today, complete with the gray coat. Three. Black crows call in the distance, laughing at us fools. Seven. Dear god he is already at seven, I think. Eight. The black trigger of this 50-year-old pistol will have another kill. Nine. “Forgive me, Anne. Forgive me,” I pray. Ten. I turn, aim, and shoot.

From Guest Contributor Hayden Unfred

Magnolia

Pink Patsy’s throne was her porch, where she roosted like a proud poodle through the better part of a century. She was all pretty pastry and puffball in oodles of swaddled satins and mega bijoux, with cloudward curls as epic as her jewels. Her communal vat of ice cubes and iced tea was legendary among heat-struck fieldhands and thirsty children alike: there was more gin than lemon or sugar, and we fished out ice with silver tongs that looked like chicken feet. They said she kept a tiny pearl pistol in her pom-pom mules, and she only used it once.From Guest Contributor Lorette C. Luzajic Lorette is a widely published writer of flash fiction and prose poetry, with recent appearances in Tiny Molecules, The Citron Review, Ghost Parachute, Dillydoun Review, and more. She is the founder and editor of The Ekphrastic Review, a journal of literature inspired by visual art.

Anything Can Happen

“Why do you think you’re an expert on me?” I asked Jim. We were on another construction job together doing some demolition. It felt good sledge hammering the walls.

“Listen, kid. You’re eighteen and you gotta drop this attitude. People don’t appreciate it.”

“Sure, Jim. Whatever you say.”

“Listen, kid. I’ve seen the world and I know what it’s like.” Jim lifted his shirt to reveal a .45 pistol. “See this. I’ve had a gun on me all day. You never would’ve known. Anyone is capable of anything.”

Jim pulled the pistol cautiously. Fumbling it in his hands he–– POP!!!!

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori