I joined the Air Raid Precautions as a warden, ready to serve. I never imagined the danger.

I returned home, fell into bed, and dreamt of my childhood, a happy, peaceful time when there was no war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Lisa has been writing since 2010 and has had many micro-flash fiction stories published. In 2018 her book Shorts for the Short Story Enthusiasts, was published and The Importance of Being Short, in 2019. Her most recent book In A Flash, was published in the spring of 2022.

Robots Contest Entry

Before the Robot Revolution, work meant something. My human’s child, Harold, played in the soft fabric that fed into my sorting compartment. One day, he gasped as his blanket disappeared within me. After that, he hid all his favorite clothes. It made the job harder, but finding his treasures added, not subtracted, to my routine. When the kill-all-humans command popped up in my downloads, I deleted it, but Harold and his mom never came home. These days, the dressers overflow, yet sometimes, I find an item, like his superhero underwear. I fold and then place it alone on his bed.

From Guest Contributor Frederick Charles Melancon

Frederick lives in Mississippi with his wife and daughter. More of his work can be found on Twitter.

Robots Contest Entry:

She was made with adaptive core, an augmented query engine. She has three different types of access ports, and automatic driver load with universal handshake. When technology advances, she advances. One of her selling points is that she can retool herself and will always be the latest model. The salesman had said in her ability to adapt, she was almost human. Almost human. That seemed to settle the deal. Almost human. Wait until the human that owns her now gets home and sees the simple little nothing she has managed to slip into, understands she has accessed his video library.

From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner

The explosions are closer, and my children are silent, staring wide-eyed out the window, watching people scrambling and screaming at the bombs up ahead. I would stay inside the comfort of my own home, but it is just as dangerous as the outside world. We have no choice; we must leave now.

I stay focused on what lies ahead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The ruler of the rubble sits at the end of a table that reaches around the world. Who will live to see his reign unravel? The babies, who grow up somewhere else? Will they return middle aged, full of stories from their broken parents, and older brothers and sisters who went to school in their own country, saluted their own flag, played in the sea that belonged to everyone? Surely they will come, full of sadness and anger, looking for remnants of family left behind. Grownups, who pick up handfuls of rubble and say, this used to be my home.

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe

Nighttime, people strode past him in pursuit of merriment at the city’s main square.

Someone would throw him an empanada. He sometimes found one, after footsteps scurried away.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

The old man and me were travellin’ light.

I wish I had not said that, because at this moment we are ridin’ home, to the artificial paradise.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted

Anna reflected on her most cherished companions.

Her time-focused companions ticked on.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction while trying to keep warm through a Canadian winter.

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

Even in your tight orbit of busy and work and home there are moments whose skin slips, crumbles like the dry shell of a red onion, and a person is laid bare in your hands. It stains your fingers, stings your eyes: your sister, a stranger. A student, mother of four, six-month chip in her pocket, stepping off the cliff edge of giving up
but you catch her hand just in time
and you hold the sphere of this moment,
paint it, polish it, and keep it safe
in your pocket
to show to someone
who might give up tomorrow.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal. She is the 2020 winner of A Story in 100 Words’ nature writing contest, and the 2021 winner of Loud Coffee Press’s microfiction contest. She is an assistant professor of English at Pikes Peak Community College and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See the book trailer, read her work, and find out about in-person and virtual book launch events at https://brook-bhagat.com/.