Be

Sherman breathed deeply, concentrating on emptying his mind of all thoughts. The contradiction of thinking about not thinking about anything gave him a headache. His spiritual advisor instructed him to repeat his mantra at times like this.

"Be...be...be..."

He chose his mantra because of the fundamental reason he'd begun a meditation practice: he wanted to stop analyzing everything and just be. He wanted to overcome all of the angst that seemed to plague all of his waking thoughts, prevented him from sleeping and leaving him chronically depressed.

His advisor didn't understand. "Why do you sound like a bumblebee?"

The Walk

Spring is here. The annual renewal of the town means that colors abound, including in the faces of every passerby. People say hello to each other in a friendly manner that hasn't been seen since the previous year. The smiles are contagious.

Stephen, the town priest, is perhaps the only unhappy soul to be found. He sulks from the portico of the church as the healthy and eager parishioners who remain alive celebrate as if he weren't there.

Business was much better during the plague. For once in living memory the townspeople actually welcomed his ministry instead of the doctor's.

Three Seals

With muzzles lifted towards the sky, they gather on rocks long dry. The sun touches down where water no longer passes by. Sable tips wash to marbled tails that tell of a time in the distant past. As wind sifts the sand nearby, it slowly edges them away. A golden plague bears their memory with a single name and details of their cause. For now, they pause as a simple thread meant to knit its way into today. When clouds darken the light, rain falls and remembers the familiar trails. It brings with it a mending unearthed by the dawn.

From Guest Contributor Kristi Kerico

Kristi is a psychology major at Pikes Peak Community College. She is studying to become a horticultural therapist. She currently works at a bookstore and volunteers at a zoo and nature center. She began writing after enrolling in a creative writing course at PPCC. She enjoys poetry the most, considering it's brief yet complex beauty. She also loves writing with a focus on nature.

Mistaken For Quackery

HISTORICAL FICTION ENTRY:

Dr. Jeremiah Jackson touted himself as the most learned man in the Northwest Territory. He offered cures, extremely cheap cures, for everything from consumption to the plague, and he guaranteed their efficacy. As far as he knew, in fact, he was the only man of medicine to offer guarantees of any sort, which should have been testimony enough as to his trustworthiness.

A man of such esteemed intellect deserved respect and accolades everywhere he traveled. So it was with great consternation that he found himself sentenced to death and hanging from a rope just a day's ride from Fort Detroit.

From Guest Contributor Oliver Park

Plague

First little Amy was stricken, taking three days to die.

After collecting the body, the wardens painted the black cross on the door.

Then her husband and son Mark sickened. She could do nothing for their agonies.

A cart collected them to be buried in the pit.

Now the street is sealed off. No food arrives, and the water is almost gone.

She sneezes twice. She knows this is the end. But what is there to live for?

Thus the pauper Mary Wells died alone in London in 1665, with no priest to console her, no caring God above her.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in The Ekphrastic Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.

The Cuteness Of Kittens

The town of Kircastle had a problem with kittens, in the same way Egypt was plagued by locusts to the point where they covered the ground and entered every house.

The townspeople feared the profusion of kittens. Some suggested they set fire to the town and start again elsewhere. Others wanted to eat the kittens, seeing as they had managed to consume every scrap of edible fare within several square miles.

But eventually, the cuteness of the kittens won out. They decided to live with all the adorable kittens the best they could, even if it meant their ultimate destruction.

The Plague

No one noticed as the epidemic became incipient. Even as people started dying from the new strain of bacteria, the entire society was oblivious.

I was the only one who could see what was happening and nobody would listen to me.

You might think I'm crazy and when the story ends it will turn out I'm inside the locked cell of an insane asylum. I wish that were the case.

Instead, I'm the last man on Earth.

I did some research after the plague. The most aggressive characteristic of the disease is that it shuts down a person's mind so they are unaware of being sick. I was the only person to have an immunity.

Unfortunately for the bacteria, it evolved too well and now there are no more hosts for it. It's as extinct as the human race will be after my death.

This is no solace for me.

Today's story deviates in that it is exactly 150 words instead of 100. It's something of an epic.

Mushrooms

At first, the mushrooms were viewed as a plague. Every time one sprouted, the townspeople would vigorously clean the location with the heaviest grade of industrial cleaner, the kind you have to wear masks and gloves to use safely.

They weren't a poisonous variety, but neither did they taste very appealing. Something like a cross between grass and sandpaper. They served no good purpose, and the way they kept multiplying to the point where it seemed you were walking, sitting, and sleeping on mushrooms was creepy.

But when the town survived the alien invasion, people stopped complaining about the mushrooms.