In a rapidly gentrifying London suburban apartment by the park, where the people are cold and the weather is colder, I overhear a nascent rumor in the making, about myself from the overfamiliar voices, and for a long second, I wish my life was as interesting as my thriving geriatric grapevine conjures it to be and believes in possibilities over probabilities. I move on, wondering why those so close to death remain so inquisitive about the lives of others who are busy living, and I tell my friends that if I ever become that bitter old cat lady, stop me.

From Guest Contributor Dr. Vaishnavi Pusapati

When I rode my bicycle past the Nazis they laughed and threw rocks at me. They hated our kind, and it was time to leave. I had no family, and lived in a small apartment alone, so it wouldn’t take long to pack. I neatly folded my suits and placed them into the luggage. I took the money I saved, stuffed it inside my jacket pocket, took one last look around and walked out the door to the train station.

My heart would ache until death.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

As a closed time curved loop time traveler watched in horror at the death of mankind. He wondered. Was it always thus? A learning simulator bent on self-destruction? From one reality bounce to another, pray for peace. In the end, God wins all games. Why? In a Dyson Sphere or Solomon’s statement, there is nothing new under the sun. And that which the author of life has given, so he shall take. Multiple dimensions exist. And every twist and turn of the story of life is taken. What about the dreamers? Even their dreams come true somewhere within a simulator.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

At Ralph’s door was a shrouded figure…

“Exactly…”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Having survived hospice twice is something. No one wants to talk about hospice. Reason? People go there to die. And? I assure you I am dead. Laughter. How are you writing this? I have no idea. In yet? I watched people starved to death. I have seen 130 pound man starved down to looking like a leftover turkey at a Homer Simpson Thanksgiving. I have seen people wave one hour prior to their death. I have watched as people in authority have forgotten to feed people. Sounds wicked. And maybe it is. God has to judge the people. Deathly endings.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

The blow knocks me and my horse to the ground. I reach for my sword and swing at the enemy, his roars deafening. My leg is cut, and the breath is knocked out of me, but I endure the pain for my king and country.

And so, it seems death is imminent for him as my sword pierces his heart.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I can hardly think of a better way to say goodbye.
To the sun and the moon, the water and the clouds,
I’ve always wanted to live on a planet where the sky was blue.

I can hardly think of a better way to say goodbye.
To be one last person who will fall in love.
Because in death, she is beautiful.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

I lived once upon a time on Sagittarius. That dream took me to Perseus, then to Orion, then to Orion’s arm, then to Orion Nebula, where we pick up this story. Death I travel the ways is scary. I awoke in the green realm right before entering the latest world.

To watch the end. Bye to Humanity. Why? In my mirror reality I did things and was once upon a time a person of influence. Doubt me? I doubt myself these days. I write to the same people with influence there here and nothing happens. All self bent on death.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Clinton is a blogger, disabled, expat, filmmaker, poet, and writer living in La Paz, Bolivia.

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

The soldier’s leg is broken in two places, but he’s courageous and doesn’t scream. As I’m cleaning the wound, he grabs my arm.

The sepsis will soon kill him, and he’ll return home in a coffin.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher