Six years since they last saw each other. Seven since they last kissed. Under bitter New York twilight, déjà vu struck like lightning.

R. Alexander Woodend is a writer/editor/translator and graduate of Franklin & Marshall College and Columbia University.

The base of her skin graft is silk: when the nerves throb, she pictures it—ribbons in the wind, a river flowing beneath the shallow scar.

Austin Eichelberger completed his MA in Fiction in May 2009. He is co-founding editor of the online journal SPACES.

One day, He turned off the Sun, put the planets back in the box, stored them with the rest, and left to play in a different galaxy.

Iulian Ionescu is a Fiction Writer, Fantasy & Sci/Fi fanatic, Web Programmer, Free Thinker, Blogger and Social Media Geek.

The invention of the universal translator was overshadowed by the cries of babies for their fading past-life memories.

@kaolinfire writes #twitfic sporadically as @q8p.

I think of her often, not because I miss her, but because the last time I saw her was the last time anyone saw her. And that changes things.

Foster Trecost is from New Orleans. His stories follow his attention span: sometimes short, and sometimes very short.

Today was okay. I call up my in-progress file s_note.DOC and edit some, add a reference to Mom, add “very” to the end bit: “so very sorry.”

Daniel Galef writes when he isn’t reading.

When the end of the world came it was not at all like they said. There was a bright light, yes. But then there was you.

Derek Dexheimer (@dex3703) gives his report at dex3703.wordpress.com. He is working on a novel.

He Duct Taped forty-seven rockets to an old lawn chair.

“Just like in that movie,” he shouted. “‘You want the moon, Mary?'”

Mom kept packing.

K. C. Norton doesn’t exist in mirrors.

I’m not where I should be. The woman beside me is dead. The paramedics try to save my body whilst my mind works on. What will the wife say?

Chris Redfern finds his attitude to life has been greatly affected by his three young boys. No it hasn’t. Yes it has.

Baby teeth rattle like dried corn in a plastic box. She shuts the childproof drawer, accepts her parents as caricatures.

Dan Reiter wishes the world were rounder.