Nothing

Andrea spent a lot of time thinking about nothing. To her surprise, when her parents or boyfriend asked her what she was thinking about, her reply always seemed to annoy them. The concept of nothing was so eternally fascinating. She'd try and engage them on the topic, but they insisted she was being distant.

Oh well.

Like, does nothing even exist? There's clearly something, lots of things, so it seemed to Andrea that nothing was just something we imagined.

She was so deep in thought, she failed to notice her teacher staring at her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

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?

The Park

Since the death of my father, I made it a habit to walk in his favorite park every Saturday, something we always did together. Sometimes we had a catch, until one day his hand slipped, and the ball landed in the lake with a splash, and people chortled and pointed. That’s when I knew his Parkinson’s was getting worse. Soon after, he was unable to do the things he loved, gardening being one of his fondest.

I stood by the lake and listened to the children playing when I saw something float by.

It was the ball from our catch.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Wake Me

You know that FOMO feeling when you realize your friends have been hanging out without you? Every insecurity threatens to overwhelm as you fear never being invited out again and wonder what horrible things were said about you in your absence?

That's how I feel every time I fall asleep. While I'm dreaming about tests unstudied for or mundane conversations with long-forgotten acquaintances, what amazing adventures might be happening in the waking world? It's enough to make one an insomniac.

Of course, every time I awaken from a particularly delicious dream I must worry about what fantasies I've left behind.

The Sword

Steel prices being what they were, a single sword was worth the same as a medium-sized village. We're just talking the value of the land, buildings, and farm animals. The human lives weren't counted, since they mostly had a negative cost the way these things were reckoned.

Walter kept his sword hidden below his floor boards. It was a secret that had belonged to his family for generations. His ancestors were once counted among the nobility. Now there was just this sword. He could sell it and feed his children, but this would be frowned upon by his financial advisor.

Two Step

Mike heard the siren and stood up from his seat, gathering his belongings. The dance continued.

Everyone was charging to the front, but Mike strolled at his own speed. No need to rush things.

He thought of his favorite band, and wondered whether he'd ever get to see them perform when this was all over.

One of their songs blared in his earbuds. They weren't allowed music players but most of the officers looked the other way about such infractions. Give a dying man whatever he wants.

Gun in hand, Mike rounded the corner into the line of enemy fire.

Don't Start Now

Christine clenched the sides of the arm chair to stifle a scream. She'd just broken up with Eric after three years of disregard laced with open disdain. For most of their relationship, she was expecting him to break things off himself for how little he seemed to care. The thought had both upset her and enticed her at the same time.

She'd finally found the courage herself and now he was saying he'd be better from now on. She knew he was lying, to himself if not to her.

The worst part was she wanted to give him another chance.

The Fortress Of A Man

“How much to bypass this process? Fabricate a report for the court?” Mr. Jacobs asked, frustration evident.

The therapist was dazed. “Pardon?”

“I’m a businessman. Need to get back to work..”

“Even if I accepted, what about your mental health?”

“Beating up that sassy bitch on the plane doesn’t make me mentally unstable.”

“Reacting quickly to provocation is something that should be managed.”

“Just name your price!”

She sighed heavily. “I’ll do it, but won’t take anything.”

He made for the door.

“Whatever belief hinders seeking help, I hope you unlearn it,” she called, urging him to think things over.

From Guest Contributor Seyi Adedayo

Seyi writes fiction and poetry. He writes because every now and again the urge to put pen to paper takes hold of him.

Two Of The Estimated

There are an estimated 380 trillion viruses in the human body. The entire population is known as the virome. Ed and Frank were two of the viruses in Mel Fromberg. As it happened, they talked to one another…

"Let me ask you, Ed. Did you ever want to be something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how about a bacterium?"

"I can't stand those things, Frank."

"Or how about a cell?"

"What?"

"You know. How about a cell in a human being like Mel here?"

"What?"

"Maybe a lung cell? Or nose cell?"

"Mel? His nose? Are you kidding me?"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Biopsy Results In Ten Days

I want these days to be about more than just waiting. How can they be? Waiting surrounds me, engulfs me, floods me...swirling, fast, faster than I can dog-paddle away... Things will never be the same again, even if, even if... Things will never be the same again, even if the white coats say all is well, even if what I’m awaiting turns out to be snip-snip-and-it’s-gone. I’ve caught a whiff that so permeated my nostrils my neural pathways my brain my heart, its remnants echo into the rest of whatever part of not-forever that I do get to see.

From Guest Contributor Cynthia Bernard