Movie Star

Sunglasses don't make the movie star, but any screen icon worthy of the name looks damn good in them. Rutherford Love knew this for a fact and was no exception.

He glided through the airport hidden from prying eyes. All the ordinary people passed by never realizing how close to greatness they were, stroked by the soft brush of fame. As long as the polycarbonate lenses covered his piercing blue eyes, he could travel completely incognito.

He didn't understand the physics behind their power, but there was no denying he was completely invisible.

"Mr. Love, can I get a selfie?"

So Lonely

Enlo's shallow breaths barely inhaled enough oxygen to maintain consciousness as he summited. Another goal accomplished. He surveyed the crests of the tallest mountains searching for some meaning to it all.

His assistant had urged he take a selfie, but he decided a photograph would only remind him of the futility. This expedition was meant to refresh him. All he felt was the impotence of the air around him.

Enlo Tuffin was the richest man in the world, and surely the unhappiest.

He started his descent. Nothing left but to punish the world for the misery it had brought him.

Thrill

“Not healthy,” Jan whispered to her surviving brother, peering into the darkened parlour where her mother sat, eyes fixed on the flickering screen of Brian’s cracked Smartphone.

Tom lifted and dropped his shoulders helplessly and returned to the closed-coffin wake in the other room.

Jan herself had only been able to watch the footage once: the glee of Brian hanging from a spar changing to terror as his grip had slipped.

The phone had been lucky enough to fall back onto the bridge.

Jan stared as her mother hit replay again. She’d even stopped sobbing.

“Friggin’ selfie generation,” she muttered.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid