The most impressive thing Jesus has done recently other than walking on water and dying for everyone’s sins is buying that used turntable at a yard sale. From the moment his fingers graced the platter, he couldn’t stop himself from shredding sweet jams, morning, noon, night.

The evening he stood on that stage holding the Cincinnati DJ Superstar rhinestone-encrusted first place trophy, a tear streamed down his cheek. This one’s for me, Dad. This one’s just for me.

From Guest Contributor Ashley Jae Carranza

There was a guillotine in the basement. People in the surrounding buildings reacted by hurling rocks and bottles. The whole thing felt suspicious, like someone was trying to send me a message. So I started cutting out images of crashes and mass shootings from the newspaper and transferring them onto the surface of prison-issued soaps. Then I figured out a way to do that onto the prison sheets. The residue that accumulated on the floor and walls took on a life of its own. Now what do we do? The window provides enough natural light to keep the snake alive.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Having fallen asleep in one town, Thoreau woke up in another, intent on uncovering what had happened to the organ grinder’s monkey. He did everything he could, but with no electricity, there was very little he actually could do. Meanwhile, the police mistook a man in a green suit walking in the forest for Thoreau. The man confessed right off to visiting the pirate queen in her cave. When Emerson dropped in on Thoreau that afternoon, he had the same question as everyone else, “Is this even real?” which was yet another reason why Thoreau loved trees more than people.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of I’m Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submission Press.

Not just anyone could stay at the castle that claimed in its promotional literature to be Kafka’s birthplace. A person needed a proven reason to be there – in our case, your egg and my semen. I didn’t want to rush you, but my Viagra was starting to wear off. You were seeing something no one else had ever seen when the police burst in, waving their nightsticks and demanding, “Who’s the bad man? What does he look like?” This makes everything sound worse than it was, especially as a whale in the harbor was spouting purple music the whole time.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

Charles Delany stepped off the horse and buggy. In front of him a white
shingled wood house with a porch, surrounded by an abundance of trees,
overlooked the ocean. He removed his hat and walked slowly up the
pathway to the porch. He sat on the wooden bench and took it all in,
listening to the waves slapping against the fishing dock.

“Okay, son, this’ll be your home for the summer. The doctor said the
fresh air and trees are good for your condition.”

Charles nodded and when his father walked away, he coughed clumps of red
into his handkerchief.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Standing in a long bank line that isn’t moving makes M itchy. The dog controller, sloughed in front of her, smells of stale tobacco. M stands too close, and her nose begins to run. In time to her sniffles, the line of gritty workmen shifts its weight. M looks ahead and sees the hold-up—the town collector, cashing her social security. At last, she steps away. The line glares at her. On her way out, red velvet cupcakes catch her eye. She stops, takes napkins, and stacks a tower inside her oversized purse—smiling, this is what she came for.

From Guest Contributor M.J. Iuppa

On the working class tube filled with out-of-work laborers, gangs and students, Reyva hugged her backpack on her lap and gazed at the ads above her head. 

“Change your Life! Travel with Distant Horizons!” 

She ditched her unfinished schoolwork and went. 

At Distant Horizons, she lied about her age. She wasn’t afraid to make adult choices.

They strapped her to a table. Fear gripped her, but they stripped it away. Gave her a new body, a new purpose.

Within the storms of Thacyline, she rode the winds on golden wings and avoided looking towards Earth. 

She could never go back.

From Guest Contributor Tyrean Martinson

Blessed be the Gods that bring forth the life I’ve longed for in this grove I thought I’d decay in. Even Warriors have weakness—an Achilles’ heel. Mine: the matching Fates tread to be woven with my golden strand.

The battle, memorable, left me stripped of my armor and shield. Broken and defeated. Among bare trees. Their roots burrowing down constricting me, but I learned to live with the pain.

Over a decade, I’ve waited for destiny to come home. Embrace me with open arms and a genital kiss. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, you knew he’d come back for me.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey 

Maybe they were tears or could be a shining in the eye. He was weak and had a fragile walk, while waving at his daughter. His ex-wife looked on with a miffed face. Her long-time affair waited for her, across the road in his Ferrari. She pushed her daughter towards the car. The poor child kept on looking at her father till her last gaze. Both of them separated by destiny and bound out of pure love. She was a gold digger and he a humble professor. Why didn’t he give her some life lessons? She looked deprived of learning.

From Guest Contributor Manmeet Chadha

It got to the best of them.

“Yes, I went to that movie, have those boots, test-drove that car just the other week,” Sophie would yipe.

There was nothing she had not lived, owned, eaten, worn, dated, or experienced by association: no conversation – however private or surreptitious – she didn’t inveigle her way into.

They decided to invent something to teach her a lesson.

“Went to that gig you recommended, Gloria. Buttinskis? Wow!!”

“Nosey can fairly play that bass, eh?”

“Oh yes, I went to their debut last month,” Sophie interjected.

Their shared smirk soured at her gormless need to belong. 

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid