By Russ Bickerstaff -- Time certainly seemed to be running out. But I didn't necessarily know why. I mean, I knew that time was progressing forward minute by minute. I mean, I knew that. That always happens. Be kind of weird if it didn't. But there was something about it. That seemed kind of strange. I mean, it seemed to be running out. Not that it was progressing forward in a linear fashion. But it was progressing forward to a conclusion. A resolution. And ending. And that

By Fiore Nelson -- Another dream of her. Her forest eyes, her pearly smile, her flowing floral dress he loved, she never left his dreams. Even in his waking mind, he couldn’t help but see her. He found her scent taunting him as he stepped out the door. Poppies followed him no matter how far he would go. Her voice echoed in his suburban home. From morning to night, at work or at the store, she was with him, not always in the physical sense, but she was always beside him. Toni

By Charisse Smith -- If you only knew how many times my life has been rewritten by someone else’s pen, you might understand why telling my own story matters so much to me. People often meet me and see only the present version of who I am—a woman who stands with strength and determination. What they cannot see are the chapters that came before. They cannot see the storms that shaped that strength or the silence that sometimes followed those storms. My story began when I was ve

By Omar Jarkas -- Far from their thoughts was the concept of a silent assimilation. That Actors could slip into their lives, into their hearts, and play the role of humanity better than they could. It began on the set of an independent film showcasing the journey of a man who lost control over an artificial intelligence; the director sought to make history with the film and to supplement his refined piece of art, as a last second decision he chose to employ an entirely inhum

By Soquel Medina -- Once upon a time, a long time ago lived a young girl named Xilabela. She was the only daughter of an Aztec king and the baby sister to his two heirs. She was wise beyond her years. The princess of a savage warrior who had ruled for many years and that made her extra special. She had hair the color of milk chocolate and eyes to match. Her face was full and although she didn’t wear much makeup, her cheeks still honed a pinkish tint. Her lips were small but

By Salvatore Difalco -- Time Is Not Fundamental I don’t think walking backwards would change anything. I don’t wear a watch. I mean, I stopped wearing one long before smartphones made watches unnecessary. My friend Ira, who inherited some money from a rich uncle, collects watches—Rolex, Patek Philipe, Omega, and then rarer watch brands like Urwerk, Enicar and Sinn. My father wore an old Omega his father had given to him back in Sicily. My father died of lung cancer when

By Ethan Le -- In a field dimly lit by floodlights, the community gathered to kill the cane toads, creatures branded invasive, disruptive, corruptive. Traps were set, aerosol sprays hissed, and each strike was celebrated as a victory for “balance,” as though justice itself were being pioneered in the wetlands. Hours into the marsh, the last toad was caught. Its final croak was drowned beneath the roar of applause. “We finally got it, that pest !” someone shouted. Ivy clapped

By Matthew Wherttam -- This year, I should see the Southern Stars. I would have to travel below the equator to do that, but wouldn't it be worth the trip? The light from those stars has taken hundreds, thousands, and, in some cases, millions and billions of years to reach us, and those stars have been moving to other places all those years. Some of them have even blown themselves to bits in gigantic bursts that will also take many years to get to Earth. So don't the Southern

By Matthew Wherttam -- Its ceiling lights are bright, the books on its highest shelves are unreachable, and I am alone and seated at a dark-brown wooden table in a padded chair. A chair covered with cloth printed with white, black, brown, and dull-blue streaks. Not clearly outlined streaks but raggedy streaks which, in places, even dribble into dots. And the carpet here is also a mess—a mess of dirty blobs; gray, brown, and black blobs. There are many books here, but one sh

By Matthew Wherttam -- The morning after an oversized blizzard on Long Island, my brothers and I stuffed ourselves into our heaviest winter clothing and then tried and failed to open our front door, which was piled high with snow. And so was our back door. The windows on our first floor were frosted over, and upstairs, where we got our first good view of all of it, we found that the snow had arranged itself around our neighborhood in swells and dips and furrows and ridges. S

By Jehan Z Bano -- Opening scene: Act 1:G:Gary’ss yard in his house patio As the sun set, Gary retreated to his hammock in the garden to unwind for the evening. He snuggled in and pulled out his writing pad, slowly sipping on his warm chamomile. He had just barely started brainstorming for an updated resume when he began feeling strangely drowsy. One yawn led to another, and before he knew it, a profound slumber had completely overtaken him. Within minutes, he found himse