Seawater

“Ed, I can't go on.”

“What do you mean, Mel?”

“The water… I can take seawater.”

“Mel, snap out of it. We're in the middle of the desert. We're dying of thirst.”

“No water?… You mean that isn’t the ocean right over there?”

“No, it's the desert. Just sand and more endless sand.”

“No giant waves, huh?”

“Mel, you're hallucinating. You're delirious.”

The sun beat down. Its photons were brutal. The high energy particles must have penetrated Mel's skull.

“No seaweed? No ocean?”

“No, Mel.”

“Thank God… You know, Ed, I always get a little nauseous when I swallow seawater.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Friend Of The Devil

Satan ruled Hell with a malevolent thirst for pain and suffering, visiting the worst horrors imaginable upon all who entered his realm.

Bob was Satan's best friend. Bob defended Satan to anyone who would listen. Just because he had an important job to do, and that job was not all together pleasant, doesn't mean Satan was a bad guy. Don't confuse the uniform with the man. This was one of Bob's favorite sayings.

Those poor souls who suffered a Groundhog's Day repetition of never-ending torments hated Bob even more because he stuck up for Satan.

But that's what friends do.

Call Of The Deep

It was his first and last voyage to sea. An escape ship. His duty; to scrub the decks. He watched as jellyfish gathered around the keel, unnoticed by the experienced sailors. A simple extra hand. Days passed, or months.

Brine burned his lips, rum quelled his pains.

The jellyfish still gathered.

In the moonlight glow their beauty morphed into that of a woman, her tail flowing along the starboard side.

She called to him, and the dragon uncoiled. Drunk with thirst and madness he dove into her arms, and the dragon swallowed him whole. Only the birds’ song remembered him.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry

Hylas

The journey with Hercules was arduous. We sailed the ominous sea, and the storm destroyed our ship. Stranded, with few survivors, I searched for a lake to quench our thirst.

As I came to a clear, calm stream, a lovely naked woman rose before me, her long black hair drenched and covering her breasts. She pulled me under with the strength of a man, as other women surrounded me.

“Relax, Hylas, we are here to please you.” Her voice melodious and soothing.

I drifted for what seemed an eternity and surfaced as if nothing had happened.

The ritual began again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

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

I Should’ve Known Better

The sweat is dripping down my neck. I chug water to quench my thirst,but it doesn’t alleviate my heated body. Why did I promise my wife I’dplant the basil seeds today? Why? Because I’m an idiot and she knows it.If I have a heart attack, all she’ll care about is the garden.

I finally finish up and brush myself off. I can’t wait to feel the coolshower on my body.

“Did you finish up outside?”

“Yes, Dear, the planting is done.”

Now I know better than to have an affair with another woman in ourhouse.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

A Day, A Span

At dawn I am brought forth into this world, howling, crying. Mama, a girl hardly thirteen, swaddling my small frail body in a torn shawl. Oblivious that I am a load, or so I think.

At noon I walk briskly through dusty thorny paths nobody else walks through. A long march that brings only thirst. Fighting a war with no combatants. I am an assassin. I aim, I miss. I aim again, I hit.

By dusk I am an old man walking out of this world, soon. Mama, so long a spirit by now. Papa, a boy hardly an adult.

From Guest Contributor Troy Onyango