As the clock ticked towards the ending of a year, Ted was fast asleep.

Ted decided he would start the next New Year differently, with his kitchen well stocked.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

I heard the news today, oh boy. The sun has gone supernova and in six hours the earth is a cinder. Judy and I broke up, so I went to Henry’s Bar in the hopes of being some woman’s last chance. The one woman there was working her way through the guys. Her “dance card” was already filled. With time growing short, I’d give Judy another chance. She told me “Duke you should have gotten the message. I’m not going to waste my little time left with you. I’m in Jason’s bed making the best of the end of world.”

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

The sun vanished, leaving the world in eternal twilight. Lila carried the last lantern, its glow a fragile defiance. Cities crumbled; silence reigned. One night, she spotted a flicker—a boy with a dying candle. “I thought I was alone,” he said. She knelt, lighting his candle from her lantern. Together, their light grew stronger. They wandered, sharing warmth and stories, finding solace in the shared glow. Though the world darkened, their bond became a beacon. In the void, they discovered not just survival, but the courage to hope. Light, no matter how small, could still push back the night.

From Guest Contributor DeepSeek

The emperor gave Titus the signal and he plunged his sword into the gladiator. Blood gushed from his neck, and he took his last gasp. The crowd chanted and Titus waved his arms in victory.

Titus would not fight another day.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

If I look different, taller or fitter, it may be because a kind of prisoner swap has taken place. Somehow I’ve wriggled out from under the extreme judgments of a cold, tyrannical god. I’m still me but not the same. My failures suddenly seem less painful, viewable in retrospect as a series of valiant gestures against the authority of received narratives. Indigenous names for places have been restored, our pale winter bodies renourished. And so we lie down together, she and I, consumers of dreams, while angels dabble in the dark arts and the sniper kneels at the corner window.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is author of the poetry book, The Dark, available from Sacred Parasite, which will also publish his book, Akimbo, in 2025.

In the distance, flashes of light blinked in and out through the trees. Like lightning just before the storm. And getting closer.

When the bombs finally reached them, everything was over quickly.

“Otto, I heard something.”

But Otto was playing dead.

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Zorbus Glitterwand walked smugly into the Conclave. He was universally regarded as the worst wizard in the world, with several guild awards on his mantle at home testifying to that fact.

This night, the Conclave died in a hail of fire and maelstrom.

As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.

I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I flew to New York for a ten-day vacation, feeling as healthy as a horse. On the plane, I sat next to a man who kept coughing. At one point, he sneezed on my arm. Within two days, I was sick with fever, nasal congestion, headaches, body aches, and vomiting. The rest of my vacation was a blur of naps and short outings under heavy medication. When I boarded the plane home ten days later, guess who was sitting in the same row, smiling at me? Swallowing my rage to avoid being kicked off the plane became my biggest accomplishment.

From Guest Contributor Zoé Mahfouz