Salvation

I release the sewer grate and climb into the darkness, the stars my only light. I stay close to the alley in case German police scope the streets. My family is starving and out of the three of us, I’m the least weak to make the walk, even though I stumble from fatigue. We’re all in angst living in sewage, but we have no other option.

His figure is faint, but recognizable. He hands me the bag of potatoes and apologizes for not having enough, then kisses me passionately.

“Go now, my Sadie.”

Aron, my salvation in this wretched war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Dinner Time

Sam sat, crossed his hands over his chest, and sighed.

“Baked chicken, boiled potatoes, and string beans. Really, Mom?”

“You know the doctor wants you to eat healthy,” she answered, filling his dish.

Sam swallowed a piece of chicken and it was like a rock had hit his stomach. He missed the crispy taste of fried, juicy white meat.

“String bean pie for dessert,” he chuckled and noticed a hair on his dish.

Sam removed his hat and a clump of his hair fell on the table.

“Does this mean the radiation is working?”

His mother gasped at the sight.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Old Mrs. Meyer

Johan returns with the potatoes for lunch. Mrs. Meyer, who lives opposite, opens her door. Though he’s eleven, the kind old lady still gives him candy.

However, seeing the two Gestapo officers with her, Johan hides.

“My father was German,” she says.

“The Reich is grateful,” they reply.

Soldiers arrive. Knocking down their front door, they drag out his parents and the family in the attic.

“Jew-loving Dutch swine!” says a soldier, spitting at his father.

Johan never sees them again.

His eyes meet Mrs. Meyer’s, peering out from between her curtains.

He never forgets her look of triumphant malice.

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 Schlock! Webzine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.

Kitchen Of The Future

Jack Masterton placed a smooth red potato in a clear plastic box andpressed a button.

Tens of microbots crawled out of a chute and onto the potato. Jackwatched their coordinated dance, each microbot leaving behind astraight white line exposing the starchy flesh.

Stage two. The microbots circled between the potato and an exit chute,each carrying a tiny ball of peel which they flung in the chute. Eachthen returned to the potato.

Stage three. Jack removed the perfectly peeled potato from the box andsmiled to himself. Amazing that people once used a knife for this.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

Charlie Stiff

Charlie woke up unable to move. He wasn't limp like a sack of potatoes that could be thrown over a shoulder. He was stiff as a metal rod.

His wife considered it a fitting retribution or all his years of unyielding stubbornness. His doctors thought they had discovered a new, more virulent strain of tetanus. Charlie didn't care about the cause. Through clenched teeth, he tried to make it clear he just wanted a cure.

But there was no cure. Charlie Stiff spent the rest of his life frozen in place, his dreams of winning the limbo world championships destroyed.