I Can't Explain

I know things look bad. I can explain the blood. I was playing with my dog and he scratched me pretty bad. He can be rough.

What about the witness who saw you going into the house?

I was just dropping off the divorce papers. They should be in the filing cabinet.

I see. And the threatening emails from your account?

Someone's trying to frame me.

Very good. That just leaves the matter of the security camera. How do you explain that someone who looks remarkably like you was recorded beating your ex to death with a field hockey stick?

Ralph, Frodo, And The Photons

Under tremendous pressure at the Sun's core, protons are fused together, and photons produced. Nothing can exceed the speed of photons.

It may take a photon 100,000 years to get from the Sun's core to its surface. Then, another eight minutes to Earth.

That Sunday morning, innumerable photons showered the park where Ralph threw a stick to his dog, Frodo. The dog retrieved it. Ralph pried open Frodo's jaws and threw it again. Frodo retrieved it. Ralph tossed the saliva-covered stick again. And again…

It had been 100,000 years and eight more minutes. But was the trip really worth it?

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

The Paisley Tattoo

We couldn’t afford real tattoos – we were too young, anyway – so we borrowed a stick-and-poke kit and I let Jim attempt a yin-yang symbol on my back. Mom called Jim the artistic twin; said he needed an outlet – but that was the encouragement of a mother loving her son too hard. His sweaty hands shook and slipped; after an hour, he quit, and we never spoke of it again. On our eighteenth birthday I had my brother’s work converted to a paisley that I’d later recreate for a favorite tie; Jim spent his money on a different set of needles.

From Guest Contributor Rich Gravelin

Rich writes short fiction from the woods of central Maine.