Linda hated the way Roger drew so much attention. If he wasn’t bantering with a server or making bad jokes to a cashier, he was serenading her on the subway at the top of his lungs.

That was six months ago.

It’s one of those days when the pollution’s so thick, you can stare directly at the sun and it looks like the old Japanese flag. We call it the smog moon.

Now, most of the gang are either dead, in jail, or under contract, and smog moons make me sad remembering.

When I opened my eyes, the room spun, and the immense pressure in my head caused my stomach to churn. I surveyed the room and realized I was in a hospital, laying in a bed, my arm hooked into intravenous. I heard footsteps and then a nurse walked in.

She called me Linda, but I didn’t remember who I was.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Gordon refused to acknowledge the accusations Heather levied against him.

“I agree. We’re through.”

Darcy and I stare at Walter through shatterproof glass at the prison during visiting hours.

I sigh. “I was trying to normalize them.”

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

The new boy lived in the old house on top of the hill. The house was abandoned years ago and every kid knew it was seriously haunted. If you rode your bike by at night, a witch could be seen standing in the window.

When it turned out the new boy’s parents were vampires, and every family in town was killed except the Landovers, it seemed a particularly harsh punishment.

Think of it as a substitute pump,” the surgeons encourage him. “Latest technology, stringent testing. Equally life-enhancing as the heart God gave you.”

Oblivious, his new heart pumps steadily.

From Guest Contributor Gary Thomson

Pay attention to your other senses, the blind man said, words muffled by my failing ears. They’ll take over if you lose one. He laughed, and I pushed our shared plate of sushi towards him, because I knew his touch was in no way enhanced. I watched his lips then: I’m no superhero. In the silence, the sushi tasted the same, the salt of tamari, snap of wasabi. Still I’d hoped: I’d envisioned a saving grace, sniffing people out by their soap’s scent, the sweetness of body lotion. The blind man, wishing for another roll, groped around on the tablecloth.

From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison

Megan watched Max watch TV. This went on for days. Max was too sad to do anything else. He’d stopped going to work. He wasn’t seeing any friends. He even refused to answer the door. He just binged whatever old sitcom Netflix recommended next.

But Megan was stubborn too. She’d keep haunting Max as long as it took to get him off the sofa and out of their house. She may be dead, but Max had a life still to lead.

I loved the way Chloe licked her lips after an ice-cold drink, and when her long black hair blew in the breeze. When she tilted her face backward, she looked beautiful.

It thundered, then rained.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher