Note To Self

I recognized the helmet on the unearthed body as the same customized gear hidden in my private lab. The ancient, scarred face underneath it, not so much. The damage was far too extensive. Even so, I knew.

Words scratched into the metal plate the body clutched remained legible: “Do not activate.” It didn’t specify what, but I knew that, too.

If I press that button in my lab a portal will open to the past. I had decided against the risk.

But now I must do it. I need to find out what could cause me to write that warning.

From Guest Contributor Sean MacKendrick

Journey's End

My duty to the Dispossessed is finally done.

I carried and cared for the few thousand survivors in their cryotubes, as we fled the 200 light years from Earth. Their life signs, my only companions, became dear to me. Now, after T-centuries of terraforming, K2-72e is habitable. I call it Hope.

But responsibility remains. If Hope falls to hubris, or misjudgement, or pollution, then the work will have been for nothing; my friends and their children will die.

The risk is too great. I will let them sleep safely on, watching over them, and keeping this garden in their memory.

From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar

Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His published flash and micro fiction can be found at https://linktr.ee//alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.

One Cookie Or More?

The pile of chocolate chip cookies on the plate was shrinking. Big Ed put five on his plate. “These are going to be gone before I get back for more,” he said to the person across the buffet line. “Same thing on these brownies,” while heaping five on his overloaded plate. Some shook their heads, but no one said anything. Neil approached the dessert table and looked down at the long line behind him. He selected one brownie and placed it on his plate. When there is a risk of running out, are you a one-cookie or a four-cookie person?

From Guest Contributor NT FranklinNT has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Drinking

There was a time that drinking carried with it a thrill. The flash of acceptance by his peers, the risk of being caught.

Then it became a habit. An expectation, though not a conscious one. It was just a part of everyday life, like the friends he no longer really connects with, but finding new friends seems complicated and lonely.

Now it is no longer drinking. It is alcohol, and he needs it to not feel sick, to not hate himself.

Maybe he should quit. But that strikes him as uncomfortable. Better just to not think about it too much.

The Gardener, In The Pool House, With A Rake

I stared at my client, debating internally how to respond. It wasn't the first time I'd been asked to perform a questionable task in my line of work. Normally I would refuse, but she was offering 50,000 dollars.

"You're putting me at risk here."

"If you don't want to do it, there's plenty of people who could use the money."

She was bluffing. The fact that she was asking me to murder her husband said that she didn't have anywhere else to turn. But then again, where else was I going to make 50,000 dollars as a gardener?