After The Verdict

“Mr. Bromley, before I sentence you, do you have anything to say to this Court?”

“I'm innocent, Your Honor.”

“I meant anything more than that nonsense. You've been found guilty by a jury of your peers. You understand, don't you?”

“I think I would've done better with a different lawyer.”

“By the way...Why did you choose your brother-in-law, Mr. Bromley?”

“Because, Your Honor, my sister-in-law cost a lot more. But I tell you, I'm innocent.”

“I told you to stop saying that.”

“Your Honor...”

“Yes...”

“Maybe if I'd offered a better bribe? Would that have made all the difference?”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Snitch

Here’s my dilemma.

I’ve learned Roger is having an affair with a woman from work.

What?!

I saw them kissing outside a hotel downtown. I confronted him later and he admitted it, reluctantly.

Should I tell Audrey?

I assume she’ll be upset, though maybe she already suspects his infidelity.

I care about them both, but, as you know, Roger’s been a jerk to me since getting married.

Plus, I’ve had a crush on Audrey since high school.

So, you’re asking if you should snitch on your brother so you can get with your sister-in-law?

I am ... she deserves better!

From Guest Contributor Bob Gielow

A college administrator by day, Bob (he/him) spins tales in formats we all use when communicating with each other: text messages, emails, fictional Wikipedia posts, and diary entries all allow him to be clinical and thorough in describing his characters, their thinking and actions...without diminishing his ability to explore the resulting human emotions.

The Moment In My Pocket

Even in your tight orbit of busy and work and home there are moments whose skin slips, crumbles like the dry shell of a red onion, and a person is laid bare in your hands. It stains your fingers, stings your eyes: your sister, a stranger. A student, mother of four, six-month chip in her pocket, stepping off the cliff edge of giving upbut you catch her hand just in timeand you hold the sphere of this moment,paint it, polish it, and keep it safein your pocketto show to someonewho might give up tomorrow.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Rat's Ass Review, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal. She is the 2020 winner of A Story in 100 Words’ nature writing contest, and the 2021 winner of Loud Coffee Press's microfiction contest. She is an assistant professor of English at Pikes Peak Community College and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See the book trailer, read her work, and find out about in-person and virtual book launch events at https://brook-bhagat.com/.

Names

"Mihir let us call our daughter Roja or else Shahad?"

I am now being dragged by my hair through the courtyard, then the terracotta floor of hanuman mandir, the broken scalps of which kept poking my menstrual pad. Crying hysterically, I pleaded "Only Hindu names from now. No Muslim.”

Nani, plastering dung cakes for the winter, Raja beta biting nails in anticipation, and Mantu my sister-in-law licking her middle finger out of the pickle jar as Mihir unburdened his hands off my hair with a thundering jolt of Indra.

Later, men smoking bidi took my bleeding body to Shamshan Ghat.

From Guest Contributor Noya Nirriti