Hannah Call

Sunny Anomaly

KW Taylor

zeej qooj

Dawn Rasmussen

Avery B

Kara S

Sean King

Harmonie Winters

Sam Becker

The plane was landing, and I was running out of time. I frantically looked across the aisle at his slack-clad legs, crossed at the ankle. ‘Think, Marianne, think.’ I nonchalantly put my seat back into upright position as the crew performed cabin checks, and grit my jaw. Time to

make my presence known. I stuck my leg out and gently kicked at him. His head spun around and his jaw dropped as he saw me there. He knew there was nowhere he could run unless he was crazy enough to jump out of the plane. “I’ve got my eye on you,” I whispered.

The man’s expression melted into a smirk. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” He tore off his jacket to reveal a compact parachute. “Cooper’s the name,” he said, deftly lowering the aft stairs. “D.B. Cooper.” And then with a jaunty salute, he flung himself out the open door of the

aircraft. I leapt forwards to the top of the steps gripping a handrail and peering down the steps into the open air. His diminishing silhouette stark against the hazy terrain I watched as he pulled his parachute cord releasing an array of small household items and random hardware

and I laughed at the sound of his scream as he realized that I had replaced his parachute. I watched as he grew smaller and hazier, and regretted only that I wouldn't be able to see the moment of his impact with the earth.

Another one of my enemies - gone. I was having a pretty good day. Once I got back to the ground, I made a reservation at my favorite

gaming den and began my favorite celebratory pastime after defeating my enemies. Gaming while trolling newbie gamers. Yet after an hour or so, some random newbie entered the server and started beating me every time, taunting me. I narrowed my eyes. I had another enemy to hunt now

- my own inadequacy. Whatever tactics I used, they countered. I couldn’t beat them, it was all I could do to stay in the game. How could Player489053 with 6.5 hours of play time be so good?

I felt lost for a moment, but then, I remembered I had a special weapon in my storage. The one I got with my Super Player membership card. This time Player489053 couldn’t beat me I was ready, so I equipped the Mega Laser Blaster Bomb Gun

My finger hovered over the button. Time slowed, my concentration at its peak. I would win, if it’s the last thing I did.

The screen went black. I heard a loud “Ha” from behind me, and gritted my teeth. Outside the window, a guy with held a sign with two simple words: “I won.”

Time Flies

b1NrY1wCkYV9Tom0BRUw7cTeGX43

Rietje Becker

Robin Devereaux

Fran Lacas

“A hero’s journey is long and winding, but a hero always finds the way,” my mother read. “That’s the end of the story, Anya. Good night.” After she left, I pulled out the book and stared at the picture of the hero and her friends, wishing I could be one of them.

A dull thud roused me from sleep. The bedtime book had slipped off my covers and onto the wooden floor. I must had fallen asleep with it. I could just make out the picture of the heroes i so wanted to be, yet there was something different about them in these small hours

As my eyes tried to piece together the cover illustrations that now rested against my floor. Slowly I felt their resistance to sleep begin to fade as my room faded from view until a floorboard creaked me awake again. My eyes shot open to a pair of boots standing before me,

tap-dancing midair. I confusedly watched it for quite a while until it slap- no, kicked me across the cheek. "No hello? No thank you very much for honoring me with your beautiful dance? Sheesh, who taught you humans manners?" It sulkily sped away and I finally got my bearings. I

pulled out my space map. Ah yes, two lefts, a right and the galaxy depot should be on my left. As I started walking I noticed the tap-dancing kick-happy alien had returned and was following me. “Where are you going, smelly human?” he asked. “Is this about that silly treasure?”

“You wouldn’t understand, alien,” I said, mostly trying to ignore him as I made my way in the direction of the galaxy depot. I hoped he would stop following me, but he continued close behind me. The tapping of his feet was annoying. “I understand treasure,” he said. “What I don’t

understand is why you, Mortal, don’t seem to care about it. I though wealth was all your kind cared about!”
“Pretty judgmental, aren’t you?” I said. I turned away and pulled my menomanator out of my bag. I pointed it at the alien.

The beast looked surprised, then started singing. “Menah menah, do doo do do do... menah menah, do doo do do do!” It wasn’t my greatest invention, but it was the funniest.

Or so i thought then..
Now all is diferent,not funny,no sad,only loneliness and apathy.
I know evil is near...
The gambit clear...
My soul naked shows deep ugliness and i like it,i want absolute power,i know Im going to sell it .
Devil smiles ,is so easy.....

I surrender to forces within and without. I am elevated and unmatched. An unholy conduit, a wormhole for malice to traverse. I leech the power and cunning of those around me until I am complete. The only action left is to light my own fuse. My combustion is bright and terrifying.

From Aliens to Demons

NLJ1nww8g8fZF9TKz4m487yIDT23

Josh Crawford

Erin Malody

Fortune cookies. I've been making them for eons, directing entire Chinese restaurants in the delicate art and penning the predictions down myself. It was all supposed to be one big hoax, just a fun family thing to do. Never had I thought that I would be judged after death for it.

Death was an unremarkable event, at least in my case. Old age, a brief illness, blackness... Consciousness, of a kind, came to me and with that came beings of light who guided me into a vast hall. "WE ARE DISPLEASED WITH THE FORTUNE COOKIES YOU MADE DURING YOUR LIFE!"

I stared at the light beings. “I’m...sorry?” I said. “I just produced what the fortune cookie company told me to. I didn’t make them up.” Suddenly one being—glowing brighter than the others—floated toward me. “Ah, but you had a magical gift when you were alive,” it said. “All of

the things you wrote would inevitably come true.” I thought back to all the fortune cookies I’d written and frowned. “I wish I had known that were the case,” I said. “I never would have taken that job at the fortune cookie factory.” I wondered how many lives were permanently

ruined by my uncaring pen, scrawling foreboding messages on tiny slips of paper, to be stuffed between the cracks of a dry cookie. "I must make things right," I said to myself. I now had a purpose in life: to

find all the cruel fortunes I had written whilst I had been possessed by that evil demon, and replace them with the most loving of affirmations. Locating all the Chinese restaurants to which they had been distributed would be the most daunting of tasks, but

It was the only way I felt I could possibly redeem what shards of goodness were left in my now blacked soul. I often found myself wondering if I had fought the possession hard enough, while also pondering the ability of those unpossessed to write equally as cruel fortunes as I

can write on my worst days. People wonder how our fortune cookie bakery, Fortunes 500, became a cultural force. That’s my doing.

The secret's out. I was in fact the one responsible. I turned our little company into an international juggernaut overnight by utilizing mass crowd appeal. No one cared about fortune cookies at the time. I changed that in one massive advertising push. Taking us all the way to the

top restaurants. I was the one who’d thought up the numbers and fortunes. Those numbers weren’t lucky. Those fortunes weren’t that profound. Now it was out. My reputation was in jeopardy. So was my job!

Penance in the World Hereafter

E6KvBQXWG7W8gif3j4hdsY29Oeh1

Madeline Sammut

Wearing a mask is a beautiful thing until the moment dawns on you that taking it off is a lot harder than putting it on. I had been wearing a mask for ten years before realizing it had begun to adhere to my face and to disintegrate the identity it hid.

The sad part was that everyone had grown to like the person I was with it on much better than the person I was beneath it. It hurt to know that who I truly was was never enough... that I had to wear a mask and play a part in order to be accepted.

The question was, was I content to be what others wanted me to be, just to belong in a group, or would I be happier ridding myself of the mask and being free to express myself fully and uniquely? There were consequences to be considered, either way.

So I decided to take the middle route for now. Discarding the wooden, unnatural mask I wore every day, I carved a new one with interlocking parts and one that was audaciously half the size of its predecessor. It was a half-mask that restricted yet freed. But would it work? I was

game to try it out. I strode out onto the stage and announced my lines as I usually did, but the sound of my voice was amplified even more than usual. I could see reactions not just among the audience members in the first few rows, but the people sitting higher up. I was heard!

I was so overjoyed that the audience was hearing and reacting positively to me that I ripped off my mask right before saying my character's most dramatic line.

The audience didn’t give the reaction I expected. They just stared at my face without a mask.

“We all wear many masks in our lives”, I exclaimed, “but some masks are invisible!” Then I made a deep exaggerated bow, and left the stage.

with a flourish I went back stage. My heart still jumping through my chest like after every performance but this one I knew was so very different. I saw myself in the mirror and found something new. For the first time

I liked what I saw. I set my mask down at my vanity and buried my face in my sweaty hands and listened to the muffled screams of a stadium full of fans. Fans who traveled from distant corners of the world to see me, hear me. I turned off the lights in my dressing room and cried.

The Glory of a Face

I had always been an unremarkable demon. I came from a proud bloodline of many a well known incubus that had seduced some of the major players in history in order to alter its’ flow, but I was stuck with only the ability to ask charming questions and receive a truthful answer.

It seems like something an angel would do. It was some power that an angel would use to get the truth out. What use would a demon have with it? I might as well be powerless. The demon without powers. That would be better. Better than the demon who sees all truth. What could I do?

I remembered something another demon told me once, the story of a demon who became human and was able to live in the mortal realm. How could I do that, too? If I was already powerless, I might as well lean into it and just turn into a mortal. And so I set about researching how I

could become a mortal and live with other mortals who wouldn’t see me as powerless. I went to Rome and met a priest who told me that he could perform a ritual that would change me from demon to human. All I had to do was swear my life to Jesus Christ and be baptized in holy water

at the stroke of midnight on the winter solstice. I was desperate to start a new life, so I agreed. I had no idea of the possible consequences of becoming a human, like

my cousin who disappeared long ago. But any life would have been better than this. Or so I thought. I opened my eyes to a cold blizzard storm with no clothes on, much less a nearby shelter suitable for such a vulnerable human form. I used to scoff with the others at such frailty.

Now, here I was, exposed to the harsh elements and in danger of freezing to death. I hunkered down, wrapping my arms around myself and closed my eyes, thinking about home and imagining my coziest blanket. Suddenly it materialized around me! I wept with

joy at being a little warmer in the middle of the blizzard. I thought is a thermos of hot chocolate and it was suddenly in my hands. I thought of a cozy log cabin with a fireplace, and then

There is was, then my ex showed up, the one who got away, my heart skipped a beat. Curiouser and Curiouser, I smirked and went further down the rabbit hole...

And further I did go. Perhaps too far. That's what spirled me like a drill so deep into my own subconscience. I never knew you could go so deep in reflection that it was all you could be capable of. 
It's been 4 months. I am now sure that I am in a coma. Happy & lost in thought.

Demonic Dissent

Whenever someone asks me about my childhood, I don’t smile and think of good times. I shudder. I think of the only thing from my childhood I remember. Cold, Darkness, Loneliness. Nothing else for 15 years. Cold, Darkness, Loneliness

; these were the names of each of my childhood cats. Cold was a small black girl who always clawed at me when I slept. Darkness was a soft grey boy with piercing yellow eyes that seemed to speak to my lonely childhood self. Loneliness was a shy white girl who hated people. They

made me feel less lonely in a world that was always seemingly out to get me. It was a world in which I had no friends and even when I made ones, they never stuck around long. But my cats were loyal and loved me unconditionally. And so I loved them the very same way.

To honor my cats, I resolved to donate $10 a day to the ASPCA. I had inherited about $50 million from my grandmother, who was the CEO of the company that first mines gold and silver from asteroids.

Perhaps that was why I was even more lonely after my cats were gone. They say the richer you are, the less you know of warmth and goodness. Unless you choose to be obsessed either with love, politics, or work. I wasn't much of a romantic and I washed my hands off politics. That

didn’t leave me with much, apart from my constant fascination, nay obsession, with butter. The oily arts have always been a passion, but who needs to cook when you have a personal chef? Perhaps it was time I revisited my favorite recipes. I opened the fridge and took stock: eggs,

radishes, turnips, spinach, a pound of sharp cheddar, a gallon of orange juice, 3 varieties of peanut butter. The pantry held pasta, beans, sunflower seeds, and Swedish fish. I wouldn’t starve, but I didn’t know what to make for breakfast.

I finally decided to think outside the box and whipped up some pasta with butter and cheese. I was still lonely, though, and the thought returned of my childhood cats. I smiled to myself and opened up a web browser on my phone, then navigated to the local animal shelter’s site.

Furry Friends

Jenelle Dulack

Jason Lewin

Nathan Bilancio

Ben Syverson

You think you know me. But I’ve fooled you with my ordinary clothing and passive manner. I want you to think I’m weak, submissive. I want to gain your trust. If you only knew

What’s it like to live over 1,000 years? What’s it like to watch all of your earthly attachments fade? Ask me sometime. It’s not all bad.

Sit down, let me buy you a coffee. I think you should hear what I have to say. Experiencing a millennium away from home was been an interesting experience to say the least, but I’ve decided that today is the day I quit. I don’t want to be eternal anymore.

A lot can change in 1000 years. When I last saw my hometown, people got around in vehicles powered by small explosions, spent 5 days a week working for someone else. I can’t wait to see what’s there now.

History does not always progress in straight lines. Those small explosions pollute the air we breathe when they’re crowded in one place. They thought building bigger roads was a solution but more vehicles came to occupy them and with them more small explosions.

The explosions became a daily event, and soon after, an hourly event. The noise and pollution were jarring, but worse was the smell. Pungent and often described as ‘farty’ they inspired a slew of new inventions: smell-free headwear, fog-free glasses, ventilated filtered helmets.

But the smell was too much to handle, no matter how many inventions they came up with. The daily rutine was running to the abandon store, get some cans of beans, of sausages and canned bread...and run back as fast as possible not to smell the smelly smell.

They tried face masks. They tried wrapping seaweed around their nostrils (ancient trick their grandparents taught them.) They even tried oxygen tanks! Nothing worked! But at least they still had a reliable stockpile of canned bread. This made the smell bearable.

One day, after huffing an immoderate amount of canned bread, they ventured outside. A northerly breeze carried something new—a lack of the stench. They became drawn in the direction of the undocked air, when they heard a voice. “I am Darren, keeper of the northlands.”

They whirled around in panic, lashing out their fists, until they accidentally hit each other and crashed to the ground. "Idiots," the voice said. "That's the south you're facing. I said I'm the keeper of the NORTHlands. Not that you can see me. Once again, I'm Darren. Choose:

you may continue to the south and face either certain death or unspeakable fortune, or you may turn to the north, where you will always be in poverty but never want for happiness. Choose. You have ten minutes.” Darren was silent, then, and the others blinked hard and looked at

him expectantly. It was a hard choice. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but happiness wouldn’t pay the bills. But would the shackles of poverty even matter if he had endless happiness? He took a breath before straightening himself and giving his answer.

“I choose money.” He has to put his family first. He knew he may never truly smile again. But he didn’t care, he knew he couldn’t put himself before the ones he loved. Choosing happiness over money would have done that. Then one day

the money ran out. Stocks dropped, seasons changed, and suddenly everything his hopes rested on toppled, along with his family’s security and happiness. He couldn’t help but feel that perhaps happiness and money were both means to a cruel end. He then decided that

life was meaningless. If happiness meant nothing good, and money couldn't buy a good life, then what else was there to strive for? Survival, despite the odds? Maybe he should join WallStreetBets.

Knowing the history of WSB and their nefarious practices, it was a death sentence to even consider that, but they say everyone has a price and maybe..... I've found mine.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the tight ball of nerves in my stomach, and tried to focus on the potential benefits my family could reap from my unholy alliance. I bid adieu to any hope of my own salvation, and... signed the contract.

Lessons Learned

pKksnKfyPcUuTPHH0iLer4KZLBy2

Before their eyes was the frozen ocean, fractured but solidified once more underneath. It seemed like an undulating ballroom floor of some psycho snow queen. Dark shadows the size of humpback whales moved restlessly underneath their feet encased in ice. It's been hours since the

“Atypical weather event” took place. The news and government had a name for it even as it was happening, but the name was a reassuring way of saying no one knew what was happening. Walking on the frozen Gulf of Mexico made that clear.

“Over fifty thousand people remain without power,” the anchor continued, “and even more without water, due to freezing pipes.”
Shivering, I picked up my cup of melted snow and took a sip. How long would this last?

I know we've been through this before, but I have a bad feeling that this will be worse, I had to share the cup of ice with Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike so I asked again...How long would this last?

It had to be over 100 degrees out here, no shade in sight, and thirst would kill us long before hunger would. Fear clenched its fingers around my heart as I sucked slowly on my one small cube and handed the cup to Ronnie. "Go easy, please," I begged. "We need to make this last."

Ronnie snorted. "We're all gonna die out here in a few days anyway. What's the point of suffering more than we have to? YOLO." She raised the cup to her lips and tipped it all the way back.

I couldn’t sign on to Ronnie’s fatalism, though. I had to find us some help, and getting drunk with her wasn’t going to be conducive to that. When she started to pour me a drink, I held up my hands. “No,” I said. “I’m going to head for the top of that hill and try to get a cell

signal.” Before she could hand me the cup, I traipsed out the door. I had to try to reach Marcus- he was the only one who could reason with her outside of a beer bottle-shaped trap. The top of the hill was cold and dark, and the stars above my head were faint. I held up my phone

Dang. No reception. I ran down the road frantically checking my phone, until miraculously the call went through. Marcus arrived soon after, carrying a large suitcase, clanking with glass. “Cheers,” he said, revealing the largest collection of craft beer I’d ever seen. “Cheers.”

Under the Icy Siege

Alore D

Felce had always been a quiet town on the cliffs bordering the sea, the only racket emanating from it coming from the waves crashing against the rocks as the tide rolled in every full moon. If you asked the locals, that wasn’t the only occurrence every full moon. Those nights,

a strange sound filled the air. A loud whistle, coming from off-shore, from no perceivable source. Rumored to be from the ship Mary Blue, which met its fate the night of a full moon many years ago. With only three days to go, Marla set out to solve the mystery once and for all.

First, she had to go down to the roots. Track things to way back when Mary Blue was just metal scraps. Taking the address, she drove off to the middle of nowhere, near the sharp cliffs. She almost made it to the metal refinery and the day was as clear as can be, when one of the

two phones she always carry with me rang out loudly, piercing through frantic thoughts. She reaches for it, hand on steering wheel, a quick glance for the dangerous cliff edges, "What now!" she thought angrily,

Reaching into her pocket, she dug around for the phone, but couldn’t find it. She took her hands off the steering wheel to dig more thoroughly, the ringing driving her nuts. Suddenly, there was a horrible crunching sound as the ship smashed into a cliff edge. She had failed.

Ballad of Mary Blue

Well, it's not every day that you discover your mother is the most despised supervillain in the history of Mars.

Many a nights, he'd wondered what he would say to her. Finally, the moment is her. With tears on the tips of his eyelids, one foot after the other, he makes his way to her, Then, wait!, he thought, "What am I doing?"

“I never fully planned out my exact words, now the time is upon me, and here I stand in front of her full glory, speechless and stupid,” he thought, staring instead at his boots. She looked at him expectantly, but he remained silent. Her look changed to one of puzzlement, as

he began to grow horns from his cheeks. Damn it, this always happened when he got embarrassed. Really exacerbated an already difficult situation.

I turned to my horrified parents who were watching nearby and cleared my throat. "I can explain," I said. I took a deep breath and confessed. "I'm a supervillain, my boyfriend here is one of my victims-turned lover because of this experiment gone horribly wrong. I really started

committing crimes when I was just a kid, and now things are spinning out of control.” I felt my face grow warm with embarassment. “I think an experiment I did is going to land me in jail.” My parents stared, speechless. My boyfriend patted me on the arm. “Give them a minute,” he

Said quietly. My mother knit her brows together as she fixated on a knot in the hardwood floorboards, and my father’s eyes emanated hurt. I should’ve kept them in the loop from the beginning, but I didn’t want them to be implicated. The experiment that incriminated me was

growing restless in the basement. I could hear the grotesque creation pacing back and forth downstairs, knocking things over, mumbling to itself in deep tones. I took my parents hands and squeezed. “You were right,” I said, fighting tears back. “Now help me slay the beast.”

The Mars Experiment

I was walking, book in hand, when I bumped into someone. I was met by a familiar face. My friend, Kate, looked back at me. But then it hit me Kate died in an accident 3 years ago. And I saw it happen. There was no doubt it was her, but how could it be?

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” With a wink, she stuck her tongue out at me. All I could do was blink and stare, slack jawed. Finally, I found my voice.
“Kate...?” I asked, dumbly. The girl in front of my giggled charmingly.

..bbbbut i thought you were..... dead! The girl in front giggled again. I stood there with this incredulous look on my face and she giggled once more but her face slowly changed to that of a screaming skeleton, she got really close to my face and said..."RUN"!!!!

I didn't hesitate. Normally, I don't take orders from screaming skeletons, but this one had a point. I turned around and ran for my life.

I couldn't end up like Kate had. To my utter horror, though, I found myself running slowly no matter how hard I tried to really pour it on. It occurred to me that this was exactly what happened to me in dreams, and I suddenly had to wonder: was this even real?

Maybe this was a sort of Inception situation, but, unfortunately, I didn't have my own fiddly-thing. I could only do one thing. I stopped and closed my eyes, trying to ignore my pounding heart and the idea that screeched in my brain that I was going to meet a gruesome demise. But

the skeleton stopped screaming, and once it was quiet again, I opened my eyes. This was just an apparition, not something solid. I had the feeling it wasn’t even Kate’s ghost, not really, but more like a memory trapped in a time loop. I reached out my hand and passed it through

the skeleton’s empty ribcage, where her heart had once been. Kate was still here, in part. Letting her go and keeping what bits of her resided in my head was the single most difficult thing I’ve ever done. But we are both at peace, for the first time in our lives.

Seeing Kate

D77dNf8u87dtON4X6LucmE4WPDn2

Everyone loved Lora's laugh. It was low, full of humor and light and everything you could want in a sound meant to elicit smiles. It was no wonder, then, that the day Lora stopped laughing was the day the town stopped smiling.

Of course, no one blamed her for her lack of mirth after what she had been through; they simply thanked their stars that it hadn’t been them. But that laugh of hers was what made their small town such a happy place, and without it, citizens feared they would never feel cheerful

again. Together, they began devising a plan to return the joy and laughter to Lory's heart. She needed to know how special and beloved she truly was.

It was agreed from early on. They couldn't do it through any of the normal methods, such as pampering her, telling her straight, or taking her on some sweet vacation. They needed a whole scheme planned out. Lory needed to know that they were even ready to risk their lives for her

Without coddling her. Lory was many things, but she wasn’t dumb. That’s why they decided to take her on a trip to Grenada to study the local endangered corals there. It was the perfect disguise for the news they would reveal to her, and played to her interests while also

helping her learn new things. Indeed, Lory learned a lot in Grenada, and not just about corals. When she met Chip, a deep-sea diver, she also learned how to love.

@hannahcall

Name

Lifetime lines written

Awards

Hannah's recent stories