Moon Shot

You can open your eyes now. The walls are covered in scribbled physics equations. Nothing wrong with that, but someone has to get on that rocket and get blown up, maybe. Take it from me, you don’t want to overlook product warnings (“Do not insert in rectum or vagina using fingers or mechanical device.”). Awareness is just so important. Everything happens too fast, as if hurled in irrational anger by the hand of God, though it’s really fluid dynamics. Even a momentary lapse in concentration can result in the sky cracking, dripping, burning, and the blue of night remaining unsolved.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.

228 Days To Mars

The Delta 2 rocket clears the tower. All eyes are on the big screen. Lift off is a success.

Spontaneous cheering breaks out.

In 228 days our unmanned vehicle will be on Mars. If all goes well, our next launch will be the much anticipated manned mission. We can feel the excitement already.

I notice Eddy is subdued. He is not joining in the celebrations erupting around him.

“Eddy my man, why the long face?”

“Uhm, just been thinking.”

“Oh yeah, thinking about what?”

“Just remembering something… something important, I forgot I would adjust, recalibrate, in time for this launch.”From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry recently had a short story awarded runner up in the Arts Alliance biannual short story writing competition. Barry's stories may be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 101 Words and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.

No Such Thing As Coincidence

Johnson arrived home to find a Buick-sized hole that ran from the roof of his bedroom all the way through the basement.

On the other side of the world, Chen discovered her experimental rocket was missing.

These two events were not coincidental.

Mr. Johnson's house had been hit by a meteor. Mr. Chen's rocket had been seized by government authorities. In fact, in addition to the distance, the two events took place several months apart.

Yet as we all know, thanks to Reverend Bledsoe's theological sermon this past Sunday, nothing happens by chance, but rather everything is by God's design.

Arthur

On the thirty-fourth floor of the Alan Alanwich Tower, Arthur sat between cabinets of yellowing paperwork. Had he been near a window, he still would not have noticed as the Tower crested the troposphere.

While the calculus of rocket trajectories was not terribly different from the calculus of financial modeling, the transition resulted in a couple of irregularities, putting Arthur behind schedule. Arthur always felt nauseous when he fell behind schedule.

As stage two of the tower detached, dropping the accounting department and mail-room back towards Earth, Arthur sighed. He would miss the company picnics. He had always enjoyed those.

Bankrupt This

Against the flat gray sky of the Financial District, the skyline begins to stir. Clouds of soot bellow down the narrow cross-streets and grand avenues, away from the Alan Alanwich Tower, which teeters, lurches, and completely parts company with the ground. Triumphant as Jupiter, the ten thousand ton fledgling of cement and steel lifts itself above the be-spired brotherhood of sober banks, ascending towards the heavens.

On the penthouse viewing deck, Alan Alanwich raises his fists. As all eighty-seven floors of his company rocket away from insolvency, one thought reverberates through his mind - "This will teach those fucking Democrats!"