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Submitted to Contest #334
From: Junior Attaché for Insignificant Annoyances, Glik-NikTo: Supreme Überlord of Galactic Proportions, Yzz-VoraxSubject: This EarthSubmitted: Cycle: 4,728th Spin of the Great Galactic Gear CyclePlanetary Local Time: Solar Rotation 26, Earth Year 2025Your Excellency, The Supreme Überlord of Galactic Proportions, Yzz-Vorax the Magnificent, I, Glik-Nik, who is as insignificant comet dust beneath your thousand appendages, well remember your admonition from my swearing-in during the 4,727th Spin of the Great Galactic Gear Cycle.At the time, as ...
Submitted to Contest #332
I wish that I could tell you it was that kind of funeral.You know, the kind where the mourners, a splotch of black spread out on the grass beneath rain-soaked skies, wrestle with their flailing umbrellas but keep their solemn faces focused on the wreath-adorned mahogany coffin. Where the priest drones on about ashes to ashes while the now even wealthier widow wipes an errant raindrop from her sculpted face, careful not to dislodge her fluttering fine lace veil.Surely Frank deserved no less.But it was just me, the gravediggers, who appeared e...
Submitted to Contest #331
Each one is different, they say. Absolutely unique. To do with how the crystals are formed as the water makes its way down, or some such. But all I see is a bleak, featureless whiteness. As if God sought to erase any distinguishing feature from the landscape, blanket it with white, and start all over.That’s what I’m doing here, barricaded as I am in this snowed-in forest cabin in cold, distant New Hampshire, away from everything I’ve ever loved or understood… Starting all over.A loud crackle from the fireplace startles me away from the frost...
Submitted to Contest #330
“Will that be all?” she asks, not even the slightest hint of a smile on her face, as my last item, a pale head of lettuce, rolls down the checkout counter’s conveyor belt towards the bagging area. Ann Boleyn’s head must have rolled something like this, I find myself thinking as I watch the counter’s mechanical arms grab the head of lettuce by their fingertips and place it gingerly into the bag they’d just opened for the purpose.“No,” I tell her. “I want to marry you and have lots of children together. But that’s not bloody likely, is it?”No ...
Submitted to Contest #329
“Whatever you do,” they kept telling us at the MIT Temporal Arts Academy, “do not create a time loop. You’ll regret it. Forever.”Paradoxes, it turns out, were not dangerous at all, tending to resolve themselves in increasingly complicated and inventive ways as time would rush to heal itself. They did result in lots of dead grandfathers and shameless grandmothers, of course, especially among the members of the freshman Practical Applications of Time Travel class, but as the scrupulously celibate Dean Thompson was fond of saying, “If it’s not ...
Submitted to Contest #328
I take a deep breath, trying to drum up some courage. How do I tell him? I scan the room again, stalling. He’s seated at the head of the large mahogany table, my four uncles and aunts split to either side, one uglier than the other. Uncles and aunts, that’s what I’ve been taught to call them. As to their no doubt illustrious actual ancestry, I’ve been instructed not to question.He catches me mid-glance, eyes sparking with anger. “Well!?” he thunders.I lower my eyes, studying the rich grain of the table’s wooden surface. “Why, Dad…” I start w...
Submitted to Contest #327
He stretches his back, then settles across from me. “Let me tell you,” he says, “it’s not easy out there.” He pauses to sniff his dish, shakes his head, then takes a bite before continuing. “I’d almost given up, in fact, until I came across this new app. SpellBound. Yeah, with two Ls.”“Two Ls, huh?” I repeat. “I guess I’ll check it later…” I wait for him to continue.“Look, even then, it took some trying,” he says. “I open it up, and first thing, this really ugly hag pops up, ancient, nose warts and all. Must have paid up for the premium plac...
Submitted to Contest #326
He looks her up and down, this so-called journo that was brought in to ghost-write his latest autobiography.Nice tits; top blouse button unbuttoned, his staff must have told her. He leans in closer for a conspiratorial whisper. “And that’s how I won the Nobel Peace Prize,” he tells her.He sees her cringe, drawing back from him. As expected, who wouldn’t be overwhelmed by his presence? She grabs her purse, as if trying to steady herself, and rifles through it feverishly, as his bodyguards take a worried step closer. He waves them off; he trus...
Submitted to Contest #325
Sam was less than two feet from the Cinderella staircase when a sudden gust of air sent dust particles dancing in his flashlight beam. Had someone opened the front door? He spun around, flashlight cutting through the dark, but the massive double doors were still as shut as he’d left them moments ago when he made his way in.He shook his head. No cameras, no alarm, and a heavy lead key tucked conveniently under the doormat. Fools. They were surely asking for it. And he was the answer.Mask comfortably off, he swept through the first floor, past...
Submitted to Contest #324
Whether you consider the shouting match he’d just had with his wife, Zakutu, over her treatment of Vashti, his new concubine, the cheeky Babylonian Ambassador who had just offered Marduk’s help in relieving the devastating summer drought they’d been suffering, if only His Majesty would be good enough to authorize a new temple to his chief rival’s god, or the stifling heat in the main audience hall of his spacious palace, Senachreb, by the grace of Ashur and Ishtar, King of the Four Corners of the World, not to mention his magnificent capital...
Submitted to Contest #323
These guys always look the same, don't they? Oily, unkempt hair falling halfhazardly on a wrinkled, sweaty brow. Eyes blinking rapidly. Dirty tee that looks like it’s been slept in. Blizzard of Ozz, figures.His hand trembles a bit as he pushes the page toward me. Too much coffee. Or booze.I can barely make out the printed text in the dim, candlelit room. 12th point, single-spaced, of course. His eyes widen as I use my phone as a flashlight; he must have expected a snap of my fingers to do the trick.A quick scan of the first few lines. Ugh, t...
Submitted to Contest #319
“Stay with me”, he begged the moon.“Stay, for when you’re gone, I shall have to be a man again, no longer at home in this enchanted forest.”So she stayed with him, and the snow sparkled with her gentle smile, and the trees lit the forest: eerie, cold torches.And so he sang his stories for her.And the owl listened… “It was not a wild beast that doomed me,” the wolf started, as the nearby cedar bent its snow-laden branches in sympathy, and the owl blinked its large, wise eyes, “but the sharp nails of a woman’s passion…”“Hauntingly beautiful sh...
Submitted to Contest #317
“Is he going to understand where he is, Dr. Soma?”Somasundaram, but most people call me Soma, the man had said when they met for the first appointment. A doctor in jeans and a worn-out tee I wouldn’t use to wash the floor or even garden in. What happened to a shirt, tie, and white coat?“Not unless you tell him, Ms. Ruhl, certainly not at first, and perhaps not ever…” He paused. “Though he may appear confused or repeat certain questions at times. That’s completely normal.” He let the absurdity of that statement hang in the air, fighting a she...
Submitted to Contest #301
QuriosityBy A. GeeA bright light flashed in Sam’s right eye, startling him and making him look up from his laptop onto the city unfolding through his wall-to-wall window. Ah, it was just a bit of sunlight reflecting off One57, the sleek, new blue-glass residential skyscraper on West 57th Street, less than a mile from his Dakota penthouse.Some of Sam’s friends have been talking about moving in there, but he wouldn’t dream of leaving the Dakota. How does one get better branding than that? Sam knew all about branding, going up the marketing cha...
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