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…

“Mel? His nose? Are you kidding me?”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Rob stares out the window at two young girls playing jump rope while their mother and grandmother cheer. The girls are chortling and clapping without a care.

The girls will be jumping rope, while he looks on from his wheelchair.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

It left a strange taste in her mouth, just as Robert said her first would. But it was successful and could launch her career. A perfect heart shot at 300 yards. There are those that will want to know who made the shot. She left traceable evidence of her sniper nest, so the exact shot distance would be known.

Maybe it should have bothered her, but it didn’t. What’s one less human trafficker in the world? She’d happily trade his life for one less girl trafficked. At least one mother got the justice she wanted and will sleep well tonight.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

He saw the new battery subset the last time he was sent in for routine maintenance. His two cycles out of style power supply barely sputters in comparison. But his owner does not think it worth the cost: that he is a serviceable hebot just as he is. He could be much better with pricklier power. No matter what arguments he makes, she will not upgrade his electricity fetch. Next time she configures him for intimate entertainment duty, he might simulate a power drain that interrupts performance. It is a trick he has seen this owner use with her husband.

From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner

Ken’s eleventh book, “Winter’s Last Apple,” is just out. Eight of his previous ten books are still in print. He lives in Virginia with his wife of 45+ years, assorted rescue cats and various betta fish.

It always rained where I lived, and the sun never showed its face. January to December: an encore of relentless grey days.

There at her place, we would play late into the night and there was always an abundance of hot chocolate and stories to go around. Late mornings, while we were still in bed, her father used to roll up the clacking blinds, and tiny motes of dust danced in the sun, just like magic.

From Guest Contributor E. Rhyme

Jake and Emily look at each other dreadfully as they realize their apartment is on fire. Jake yells to Emily, “Grab Sarah out of her bed and I’ll get May out of her bedroom!” The fire is spreading quickly around the house so they have to think of a plan to get out. They end up thinking of a plan to get out. They use a crowbar to break the window. It shatters in the dead of night as pieces of glass go all over. Eventually, they reach a beach in Tampa Bay, Florida. Everyone is alive, safe, and happy.

From Guest Contributor Mikayla Wikoff

My grandmother tells me not to forget where she is. But she’s forgotten who I am. Would it matter if I was back soon like I told her I would be? Am I even a part of her fragmented memory? She lit up when she saw me (but she could have just craved company). The nurses have to be her companions now. The granddaughter role in her life doesn’t exist anymore. Are you a granddaughter still when your grandmother doesn’t know your name? Face? My grandmother lives in the past now but not the past I am a part of.

From Guest Contributor Olivia Bond

The clatter of typewriters, especially Maryanne’s, echoes in the room. She’s pounding heavily on the keys to reach the deadline. It’s imperative she gets done before the other women if she’s to prove herself capable. She reaches the end and pulls out the paper. With quick steps, her heels clanking on the floor, she heads to her boss’s office.

She has no idea the danger she’s in.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Howard entered the school’s front office Monday morning following his Saturday wedding. The head secretary smiled at him and cooed coquettishly, “Ooh, Mr. Morgan, how’s married life?” The other secretaries smirked, eager to hear his reply.

Grinning madly, Howard walked out of the office thinking, What a great start to the day.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

Look at Don Fernando, Platero. He is wearing his best suit.

Maybe he’ll write short stories about a sweet donkey like you, Platero.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°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.