All Arise

The entire population heeds the call to arise. Yet to an outside observer no actual call has been made, no clear sign or order to rouse the masses. You might question whether there's a leader at all, for it appears a communal urge has overtaken the congregation and compelled an immediate revolution of activity after weeks of idle rest.

It's a sudden cacophony accompanied by the requisite rush of sound and fury, enough to strike fear into any unfortunates standing in the way of the mass migration.

The flock, once airborne, assumes formation and heads south for its winter home.

For MM

The ground is wet with rain, and yet a book is lying there dry. I pick it up. Whoever snapped the photo used on the cover was either too excited or in too much of a rush to hold the camera steady. The faces of the naked women standing in an open field are blurred, less visible than their dark triangles of pubic hair. Soldiers gesturing with rifles have lined the women up in front of a burial trench. The women, still concerned for decency, keep their arms folded modestly over their breasts. Everything that isn’t a predator is prey.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest poetry book is Swimming in Oblivion: New and Selected Poems from Redhawk Publications. He co-edits the journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

I Met A Man, A Most Remarkable Man

I met you at a time when the star of you was careening downward. Though in descent, due to illness, your radiance shone in your discussions of the band Rush, the literature of Chesterton, and your absolute love and skill at cooking. You were afraid of being an imposition, not realizing that giving me a chance to help you—during our fateful trip—was my chance to brush against your beauty, your deep, feeling heart. I am selfish; I want more. But I must wait, as your star has again swung into ascension, brightening this world even upon your exit.

For Tony Rome By Keith Hoerner

1970s Justice

HISTORICAL FICTION SUBMISSION:

Nevada shivered from the rush of adrenaline. Life was not fair, so why should she be? She cried for justice for her daughter. He laughed. She had never fired a gun. So uninformed she didn't know if she held a rifle or shotgun, nor the proper distance from her target. She took the gun, the one he used camping and to bag deer, from his end of the closet. She did not know the blast radius or the kick that would knock her on her ass. She did not know how to hunt a moving target, but she could learn.

From Guest Contributor Leah Holbrook Sackett

Territorial

Allison refused to budge. By all rights, she was entitled to stay in this booth as long as she liked. She'd bought a latte after all, never mind that had been well over three hours ago.

She looked around the coffee shop, hoping to find an empty table somewhere else she could direct the interlopers. They were in the midst of the lunch rush, however, when all the students got out of classes. There really were no other options.

"I suppose we can share." Allison grudgingly scooted over and made room for the happy couple.

Oh, how she hated them.

Grief

Arriving home, Sally is greeted by police at the main door.

“Thieves have systematically worked over every condo in this block. Apartments have been robbed, trashed or vandalized, your apartment badly. We have a grief counselor on hand for you.”

The police accompanying Sally to inspect the crime scene hold open the door for her revealing a distressing sight of man-made mayhem.

“I’m sorry you have to see this. Has anything immediately obvious been stolen?”

Sally slowly takes in the shocking scene of devastation before saying, “No. This is how I left it this morning. I was in a rush.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. The acting experience has inspired a latent desire to write. Barry is enjoying the challenge of writing in 100 words.