Consequence Of Failure

Dale stares at the target. Everything is riding on him. The difference between victory and defeat. The difference between eternal glory and a lifetime of infamy.

Dale takes a deep breath and bounces the ball three times. He focuses his mind on this simple act he's done a million times. He refuses to look at his teammates, or listen to the fans nervously watching from the stands.

If he misses, his family will receive death threats. He'll be retired in shame.

Dale releases the ball. He doesn't need to watch to know it's clanked off the front of the rim.

Prey

The birds of appetite circled the spot below them on the desert floor. Inkblots against a sky cloudless and blue. They wheeled in decreasing concentric circles. Always, the spot the center of a bull’s-eye.

One bird landed feet from his target. Drawing nearer, he became agitated. There was nothing there. With a screech he took off in search of better prey.

Slowly, the spot resolved itself against the haze and became the figure of a man. He had stopped to rest after walking for hours. He stood now, indifferent to temperature and to thirst. Indifferent as well to his destination.

From Guest Contributor James C. Clar

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

Blaze Of Glory

In the gloom a solitary light illuminated the Führer’s portrait.

“Two minutes oxygen left.”

No one responded.

Cross-legged like the Buddha, Steiner seemed at peace, thinking of his wife and son. Even Müller was becalmed, resigned to an iron coffin at nineteen.

Captain Mayer had himself fired the torpedo that sank the British battleship.

Submerging, a destroyer had detected them, the depth charge fracturing the hull.

They were the only three to survive, closing the hatch of the control room.

Losing consciousness, Mayer looked from the Führer’s eyes to the light. Ah! The explosion of the torpedo finding its target!

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Ian is originally from South Wales. He studied English Literature at Oxford University many years ago. He lives in Taiwan with his family and is a high school teacher there. He has also been a freelance writer for over 14 years, writing articles for Taiwanese educational textbooks. He has had short stories published in various genres in Schlock! Webzine, Schlock! Bi-Monthly, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, and in anthologies by Horrified Press and Rogue Planet Press. He is an Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association.

Destiny's Edge

He held the rifle tightly. Looking through the scope, his target was approaching. Should he take the shot? The target was approaching slowly, allowing the opportunity to fire multiple shots before anyone would react.

Instead, he was patient. His life had brought here: his mother, the Marines, Russia, even buying this cheap rifle he was holding. All of that had brought him to this moment. He'd wait a little bit longer.

His target turned. It was now moving away from him. He took a deep breath and knew destiny awaited him.

With that thought, Lee Harvey Oswald pulled the trigger.

From Guest Contributor Matthew Kresal

The Stand In

I’ve discovered a niche taking the place of other people, in particular performing those tasks they themselves prefer to avoid. This kind of specialty service requires seamlessly blending into any situation, as well as incredible forbearance. You are often the target of vitriolic abuse.

This was how I found myself last Saturday night at the city's most exclusive fine-dining establishment in the company of Veronica Roth. The meal was delightful. The trip to the emergency room after I told Ms. Roth that Mr. Deveraux had sent me to break up with her was just another of my career's many pitfalls.