“Do you have the time?”

“Judging by your answers, you are not the one who has the time. You’re the one with the watch.”

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

In her dormitory room, Evangeline examined the ‘Special Romance Candle”, which she bought today from Madame Laveau’s House of Voodoo on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

She slipped out of all her clothes, climbed under the covers, and eagerly waited for a knock on her door.

From Guest Contributor Don Kirksey

I listened to Camilla talking about global warming, the ocean plastic crisis and the deforestation of the Amazon rainforest. Words crowded behind her lips: I silenced them with a kiss. We stayed ten eternal seconds in that first intimate contact.

We spent all afternoon enjoying our private summit, evaluating the measures to be taken in the future. We started to negotiate ecological caress credits.

From Guest Contributor Marcelo Medone

Facebook: Marcelo Medone / Instagram: @marcelomedone

I recognized him from his picture in an old literature textbook. It had been over 100 years since he had mysteriously vanished. I asked where he had gone and why and what he had done there. He wouldn’t answer. When I added I was a big fan of his writing, especially the Civil War tales, he just snickered. I didn’t know what to say next but felt I had to say something. “You like being a ghost?” I asked. He gave me a sly little grin. “You get to sleep all day,” he said, “so you can work at night.”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest and scheduled for publication in summer 2022.

Many years have passed since both horrific creatures, Count Dracula and the Wolf Man, fell over the cliff’s edge, plummeting into the sea below. Never seen or heard from again.

But, I can never die.

From Guest Contributor Jason Jenkover

He rested on the soft surface, observing one among the many roses surrounding him, the white petals layering atop each other. Whimpering from piercing screams, trembling from blaring sirens, shutting his ears tightly with his hands couldn’t help. Two black figures stood over him. One leaned closer, tenderly stroking the boy’s forehead. ‘You love flowers, don’t you?’ it whispered. He smiled, and the other handed him a bouquet. ‘Let’s leave him some peace now, shall we? And I’m quite certain he does—loved them since birth.’ It nodded, and with a thud, blocking the perceivable, the velvet lid slid over him.

From Guest Contributor Lo Xing Le

It follows me everywhere, the inaudible predator. Fixated upon a daily routine, mocking every subtle maneuver that I made. The thing glissades in a deriding dance upon my every step. A replicant of form cast under the luminosity of ever radiant sun.

Signified in our sinister, daily reflections. An entity of faux similarity and duplication. In such replication a truer self and profound verity obtained. Co-conspiring and willingness etched upon that imitation smile. The backdrop of the unstained silhouette and persona versus my tainted hand. A cheering entourage as the blade is always in my hand painted with crimson delight.

From Guest Contributor Brett Dyer

“I’m still burning for Aliona!” Evan cried. “Not for long,” said the Lords before they locked two lovers together inside the intergalactic cryo chamber.

The last we heard, Evan was eaten alive during his deep hibernation sleep.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

Ivan is a Serbian short story writer, poet and composer of ambient music.

—Get in the car, doll.

—Slow down, Roy.

From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz

Joe writes from northern Vermont.

One thing that puny humans first notice about me is my thick skin, almost as formidable as the plated armor of old. Fortified with shiny gill platelets designed for breathing. Along with flipper style claws, useful for swimming and digging. And a contour which facilitates speed under water. One drawback though, the blood coursing through my veins runs cold and thready. When winter comes and the weather drops below seventy degrees Fahrenheit, I have to be prepared for warmer living arrangements. Alligators have a unique way of solving this problem. Unfortunately skirmishes ensue. Has anybody known a gator to share?

From Guest Contributor Christopher Baker