Always Everywhere

She's haunting him everywhere he goes.

She's reflected in the mirror when the lights go black. She's in the storm clouds chasing him through the day. She's the hum of the air conditioner cranked ten degrees too cold. She's the wetness soaking through his clothes in the rain.

He doesn't mind. Ghosts lose the power to terrify when you're addicted to the jump scare. She promised him she'd never leave and if nothing else, knowing that she's true to her vow is enough for him to hold on to.

He never would have imagined himself living in a romantic fantasy.

Rental Agreement

They were only pygmy hippos, she said, and she was planning to have them fixed. They were emotional support animals, one for each of her personalities, so there was nothing we could do about it. The pond became unspeakable, even though it was still below freezing. They floated there in the muck like ominous little storm clouds forming over smog. Trucks delivering their crates of fruit and greens continually blocked the driveway. Then one day their gauzy pink wings emerged. Angels, someone whispered, despite the aerial bombardment of neighboring gardens that now commenced. Then the local population began leaving offerings.

From Guest Contributor F. J. Bergmann

Sensitive Weather

It was the eve of the Little League finals. Bobby looked out his window and cursed the gathering storm clouds. He desperately wanted to pitch in tomorrow's championship.

The clouds, as all the wise men know, are temperamental. They especially don't take to being ordered about, by God or anyone else. Certainly not by thirteen-year-old boys.

When Bobby woke up the next morning, the clouds were no longer in the sky. They were stuffed into his bedroom. They chased him about for the rest of the week until he finally apologized.

"Next time, don't be so mean," the clouds insisted.