The town of Broken Solace, located at the end of Route 140, owned a single vehicle, a Buick LeSabre, which was shared amongst the residents according to a very detailed schedule that attempted to account for everyone’s needs evenly.

The city council approved the purchase. However, the Mercedes became the new community vehicle and the mayor was stuck driving the Buick LeSabre. Not everyone was happy with the new arrangement.

The people had long dreamed of revolution, but it was the balloon vendors who finally convinced them it was possible. They possessed more than empty talk. They had a plan of action.

They long harbored a measure of bitterness at their failure, but their prison sentences were ameliorated at least somewhat by the fact they had tried to do something. No one could say the same of the knife sharpeners or pitchfork salespeople.

It was the eve of the Little League finals. Bobby looked out his window and cursed the gathering storm clouds. He desperately wanted to pitch in tomorrow’s championship.

“Next time, don’t be so mean,” the clouds insisted.

He used to be a loving husband and father, a fact so known it was written on his tombstone. His wife knew every night as he was loving her. Once, he loved her so hard she hurt and asked him to love a little less.

Stephanie stopped his loving heart forever.

From Guest Contributor Emily Aledort

When they went urban spelunking in the abandoned tunnels of the city’s old subway system, they were prepared for anything and everything: forgotten homeless, horrible mutants, over-sized rats. But they were not prepared for what they actually found.

Mark liked that he was now rich but life as a black woman was hard even when you had money.

No one knew his name, they simply called him the artist. He would breeze into town every few months and offer to paint their portraits.

Anytime the artist painted someone, that person became an instant celebrity. The attention it brought was a tremendous burden. They preferred to live in obscurity.

The children of Glen Haddock often played near the empty barn on Signal Hill. They would dare each other to approach and brag about going inside at night.

None of the kids ever thought of going into the barn after that.

After years of chasing storms all around the world, Will finally found his way to the end of a rainbow.

“You think I’d hide my gold here, at the shit end of the rainbow?” He hiccuped and fell asleep. Will cried.

Ben’s parents adopted him late in their lives. They fed him and encouraged him to make friends and planned elaborate birthday parties that no other children came to. They did their best to give him a normal life, but something just seemed wrong with him.

Eventually, Ben’s parents realized they had been wasting their time. What was the point of adopting a child if he wasn’t going to attract more children to their home in the woods? They could have just kidnapped him and baked him into a pie and saved a whole lot of money on clothes and tuition.