The cars came to a halt, and sirens blared. I wondered how bad the accident was. I couldn’t see anything other than flashing red and white lights and I hoped no one was killed. I called my wife, but the connection was bad. I managed to tell her I’d be late due to traffic.

I said a silent prayer and drove on, anxious to get home and kiss my wife.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

When Maxwell slept, he always dreamed of chocolate. According to his psychoanalyst, this was a long repressed association he had with the candies his mother gave him as a child. His medical doctor insisted it was a result of his chocolate allergy (technically three different allergies to milk, nuts, and soy, but who’s keeping track). His wife believed it was a sign he should get her a Valentine’s Day gift (collateral damage be damned).

In other words, death by chocolate.

When the Church implemented the new confessional system, Pope Earl the First proclaimed it would usher in a new era of community and humility. Father Gabriel had doubts.

“I’ve been sleeping with Sean’s wife for three months.”

The twilight sky blazed with attitude, warning everyone to speed indoors. The clouds hung ominously low on the horizon, pink, black, orange, and grey clashing together as darkness settled over the town. Rain, lightning, and even tornadoes were all possible tonight, like a sleep-deprived toddler on too much sugar.

Ben turned his collar up and sank his hands into his coat pockets, but otherwise meandered on, his attention entirely concentrated on the argument he was running away from. Rather than confront his wife with what he knew, or thought he knew anyway, he’d just keep walking towards the sun.

Chance traveled to this decade against his will. Yes, he’d complained plenty about how fucked up everything was in his own time. He’d pointed to a number of examples of how society had been better before and that the whole country was doomed if we didn’t get our shit together. But the last time he checked, it was still a free country. He could complain all he wanted. It didn’t mean he actually wanted to teleport back to the past.

How was he to know his wife was building a time machine in their basement just to shut him up?

My wife said I treated Tobasco better than I treated the kids. I walked him three times a day.

school and talk back. Excuse me while I cry and blow snot everywhere.

From Guest Contributor Gary L. Dozier

When I entered the restaurant with Kate, I scanned the room as everyone yelled surprise. I was stunned and stood motionless. Family and friends gathered around waiting to hug the fifty-year-old birthday boy. Balloons of different colors filled the room and small beer bottle opener party favors laid perfectly next to each place setting.

Everyone yelled speech, speech, so I raised my glass. Before I could get any words out, I thought of how I would tell my wife I just lost my job.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Last one home is a rotten egg.

Run. Run. Run.

As Henry steered the plane toward the bombing area, he said a silent prayer and kissed his wife’s picture. Bullets filled the air and planes dropped to the ground crashing into enemy lines.

Henry grabbed the picture of his wife Maggie, attached the parachute and together he and Stan jumped into the air just in time before the plane exploded into pieces, creating fire in the sky.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I turn aside before Everest’s summit. Hobbling to a low drift, I scoop away the snow. I have found her, still lying where she had collapsed on her fateful ascent years ago. I peel off her goggles. She stares at the cobalt sky, as if daydreaming. Her ivory skin remains unspoilt, despite the passage of time.

I wrap my wife’s stiff hand in mine and gaze up at the heavens, waiting to see what she sees.

From Guest Contributor Christopher Mattravers-Taylor

His writing is coloured by his experiences as a ME sufferer, particle physicist at CERN, property developer, core driller, disability benefits claimant, Dalmatian breeder, traveller, and more besides. One thing has remained constant in his chaotic life, however: his love of Encona Hot Sauce.