Pirate Tale

Aright, there I was reading a pirate book in bed, when a portal opened and swiped me into a different realm of sorts. It took the whole bed and me cup of rum. Sailing into the seven oceans blue making me wonder what was true. Thus I pondered and wondered about reality as I continued to read my pirate book. Were there just seven seas or oceans in the realm of reality I was in,at which point a pirate spoke to me, making me wonder what was in my rum. To live free is a dream. Dying an end.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Call Of The Deep

It was his first and last voyage to sea. An escape ship. His duty; to scrub the decks. He watched as jellyfish gathered around the keel, unnoticed by the experienced sailors. A simple extra hand. Days passed, or months.

Brine burned his lips, rum quelled his pains.

The jellyfish still gathered.

In the moonlight glow their beauty morphed into that of a woman, her tail flowing along the starboard side.

She called to him, and the dragon uncoiled. Drunk with thirst and madness he dove into her arms, and the dragon swallowed him whole. Only the birds’ song remembered him.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry

Hotspot

The lone imagineer of the radioactive sand cloud that froze Florida in death and time worked for Disney. Tourists, natives, gangsters, and gators were rendered untouchable beneath a toxic sheet of glass. The reflection burned up satellites and crisped drones mid-air, and it was agreed the whole place should be forgotten, for now. So they forgot the flamingos and the dancing girls and the cigar factories in Tampa where the son cubano played on. Nobody remembered to forget the island past Key West where an old man sold boat rides to Havana for five dollars and a bottle of rum.

From Guest Contributor Courtney Watson