Stories from
May, 2012

There’s no air in the jar and you expect me to breathe, but you never poked out any air holes for me.

Lucy Quin laughs at the Life Alert commercials.

After surveying the desolation of the burning world around him, Sisyphus pushed his boulder back into the valley and followed it down.

Kathleen Crow is owned by two cats who abuse her horribly.

“Tu ne seras jamais comme moi.” She didn’t know what the French meant, but she still said it to the mirror after each weigh in.

Brenda Cobbs is beginning to emerge from academic writing once again.

The sun flickered like a neon light, then went out. Sanja, under her father’s tree, wondered how long before the Earth grew cold.

Christian Martin posts sci-fi very short stories and geek poetry @PixelatedGuy.

I had to sneak my hand on the small of Marie’s back like a SEAL team. Two more drinks and she would have been your mother instead.

J. Bradley lives at

By the top of the third, Dad was already at the bottom of his fifth.  Our team won, but we didn’t celebrate.

Philip Simondet wrote this just for you. Thank him at

He left. But she still looked for his lanky form. Or one like it. She knew losses get replaced. She knew she’d love a copy just as much.

Chuck Von Nordheim lives in Dayton, OH, by a river.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I want a divorce.”
“I understand,” I reply through the bars.

Lindsay Kitson writes Dieselpunk out of Winnipeg and blogs.

Tommy held the E-meter with feigned curiosity. “For science,” he said. His auditor didn’t like that. “For Scientology,” he corrected.

Kyle Jaeger is a writer in Hollywood.

When she found her tea later, it was not only cold; a tiny paper boat—what used to be the grocery list—was soggily capsizing.

Nina Nesseth plays the ukulele.