Ben Syverson

Sean King

Sam Becker

Nat Steinsultz

Rietje Becker

Zoe Becker

Zachary DuFrain

Robin Devereaux

Nathan Bilancio

I sidled up to the bar. "I'll take a Swollen Headbanger on the Beach." The bartender looked at me funny. It's not a complicated drink: in a highball glass, you mix one shot of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky,

Seven pitted olives, 3 ounces brandy, five ounces cherry Kool-ade, 5 ounces Prosecco. Shake and serve in a chilled beer mug, garnished with half a scotch bonnet pepper. Traditionally, the bartender says “rock on” before you take your first gulp of the drink.

What possessed me to order a cocktail called Garbage Slick? I smiled at the mixologist and took my first sip. It burned. Looking down I realized hadn’t made a dent in the novelty-sized glass with 'down the hatch' written on one side.

So I went to ask the bartender if there was anything funny about it or what I was missing. The tall thin man in black sat at the bar, his back almost to me as he sipped his drinks on a leather chair in the corner.

He glanced my way dismissively. Avoiding eye contact. “What’s the deal here, man?” I asked. The tall thin man turned around. “It’s all a game” he whispered. The tone of his voice was in grave contrast to the laughter in the room. He quickly got up and left the bar.

"A game..." I thought to myself. "Well I'm here to win." I crawled into a standing position atop my stool and addressed the crowd. "Hello all! Who's ready to party!" With that I tossed my cowboy hat into their confused faces and did my best macarena.

Somebody walks up to me. "What about Joe". I said, "Who's Joe". I realized what I had done immediately. "JOE MAMA", I fell over, passing on to the next life, hoping, not to be EPICLY REKT in my next life. I died doing the macarena, of embarrassment.

I passed through a tunnel of brilliant white light only to come out on a beach, still doing the marcarena. I was surrounded by a group of native folk in brilliantly colored clothing and headdresses. Three men beat drums in time to my dancing. The women laid food at my feet. I was

So exited to see everyone doing the dance with me. For the first time in years I felt alive, although I wasn’t sure I was. That tunnel and that white light at the end made me doubt. I think that beach was heaven and I was dancing like crazy with angels...or it was hell..?

How was one supposed to know? And now that I think about it, how did I end up on the beach? It was as if time was no longer linear... The dancing though... it’s so great. Would you care to join me?

Let’s Get Beached

VabODAh4EidNJyuL873XbrirwC03

Kristen Myers

The floors were shiny and the rooms smelled like pine. Gloria was always proud of her work, but today especially. It had been a day like any other, until she reached the room 23.

As she opened the door, she was overwhelmed by a familiar stench. It was warm, like the fermenting floor of a forest on a hot afternoon, and it reminded her of home.

She followed the stench through the kitchen, into the backyard, and wound up in a cloudy greenhouse, musty and hot. Her attention was drawn immediately to the tallest specimen.

It was a Venus Flytrap, clearly many years old. She approached it cautiously, overwhelmed by the damp heat of the greenhouse. At her touch, it recoiled. She heard someone open the door behind her. 

“I see you found Melinda,” said the tall man in the doorway. “I’m Piotr, the groundskeeper.” Piotr brushed past her, and placed a handful of Funyuns in Melinda’s verdant mouth. The flytrap slowly closed.

Melinda smacked her lips, then burped. "Gross," said Piotr. "I love Funyuns," said Melinda. "Woah, a talking plant," said me. Realizing her mistake, Melinda slowly turned to face me. "Enjoy sleeping with the Funyuns," Piotr said as Melinda opened her mouth one more time...

Room 23

Emily Grossberg

Marcus took off his sunglasses and put down his beer. "Hello? Is anyone there?" He craned his neck so he could survey the entire room. With his heart beating a mile a minute, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

There was a ghost hovering in the bathroom doorway.

"Who's ther—OH, oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know there was anyone in the shower. I'll just leave," said the ghost.

The ghost went from a white translucency to a deep red with embarrassment as he floated down the hallway. He stopped to look in a mirror and said “I look high.” His mind drifted to when he was alive, and the high he used to get was from Becky. Oh, sweet Becky and her dank weed.

These days, Becky is mainly concerned with the weeds in her garden. She keeps it immaculately tended. Neighbors think she has a green thumb, but she’s really try to keep the spirits happy. Specifically the ghosts of the people she had to kill, whose bodies rest under her garden.

Becky found herself singing this morning as she frantically uprooted the overgrowth from her menagerie of souls. Do not suffocate my babies you nasty weeds she sang, slightly off-key. What Becky didn't know was that her ruse was almost up. Trouble lurked across the garden.

A small horde of hungry monsters approached. Becky rushed into the living room, only to find the window closed. She peeked out, and was only about halfway through the room when the door flew open. With a howl, the horde ran through the open window, smashing the couch to rubble.

Soul Patch

Ben Healy

Jennitha winced as the spa technician smeared the nanobot gray goo on her forehead, but what did she expect? She was living in the future after all.

It had been almost a year since she had woken up in the year 3021 after being cryogenically frozen due to a malfunction in the walk in freezer at the kitchen where she worked.

What’s a chef to do in the year 3021? With all our basic biological needs met food seems to take on new meaning. Also, for some reason, people are now obsessed with turnips and other scarce root vegetables.

Also, for some reason, people now play musical instruments with their toes.

All in all, the future is a pretty wild place, Jennitha thought, and she was definitely right. Back at home she poured a packet of powder into a bowl of water, stirred, and it became a beautiful cocker spaniel puppy. The puppy barked hello, and her heart felt a little more full.

Then, the puppy died, and her heart felt a little less full. "The future sucks", Jennitha cried. Nothing made sense to her anymore. All she wanted was a nice warm meal at her favorite restaurant: the combination Taco Bell and Pizza Hut.

Jennitha took the lifeless puppy and slowly walked out the patio door. Though it was late, the garden was bathed in the artificial colors of fast food mega giant Pizza Bell. She had just started digging a hole when a hover craft slowly approached from above.

After Jennitha filled the hole, she stepped back and said a silent prayer. As she faded into the night, a tinny refrain issued from the hovercraft's loudspeakers and filled the arid plains: "Ask not ... Ask not ... Ask not for whom the Pizza Bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

Elegy on Jamaica Avenue in the Year of Our Lord 3021

Becky Carlson

Joanna Champagne

Fra Valsecchi

JUSTIN MASSA

Chris Kucharczyk

The further they drove, the fewer billboards they saw. The hotels and factories turned to homes, the homes turned to farms. The team was practically in a forest when they came across Company Town. The arch they passed under boldly implored, 'Go West.'

Becky gripped the steering wheel as a chill ran down her spine. The air was unusually cold for a summer morning, the grass was thick with dew. As she turned the corner, something caught the corner of her eye. "Jesus fucking christ", she exclaimed.

Standing on the manicured lawn in front of the city hall, stood a small child in oversized clothing. As she looked closer, she couldn’t help but think this boy had an incredibly familiar face.

His little face was raised up to the beautiful building like a question, and he was still, rooted right in front of the marble steps- until (with a hope she had promised to never visit again) whispered a name to him.

"Sofia". A shiver ran down her spine as she pronounced that name. "Take a left at the painting of the hairless cat and walk all the way to the end of the hall. There you will find her, in all her beauty, and she will have an answer to your question."

The cats eyes followed her as she walked down the hall, filling her suddenly with a sense of existential dread. As she got closer, it felt as though her legs grew heavier and heavier as if they were warning her. But she wanted an answer. She needed an answer.

The doorknob creaked loudly and the cat hissed as she opened the door. Inside, a musty bedroom, lit by flickering candlelight. As she inched closer, the candle grew bigger and brighter, until it consumed her, just as her search did. Only the cat survived.

Far Afield

Giovanna BK

Frank Spiro

Gabriel Pincus

Sheila Sheedy

Joy Milne

Ross Weijer

While Steven P and Steven S had fought in public before, this was the first public food fight, and as they both went to bed angry, Steven P couldn’t help but feel a nagging pang of guilt.

Steven P went straight to bed that night without showering. He still had dried mashed potatoes under his eyes and grape jelly on his t-shirt. Normally this would have bothered him but he had a lot on him mind. For instance, what was Steven S up to?

He racked his brain trying to remember, Steven S hadn't been at last weeks meeting of the Stevens' club, which was strange because that was the day that Steven Q and Steven R had a rap battle, and everyone knows how much Steven S loves rap battles.

But he couldn’t remember what had been stopping him from going. Perhaps it was the intense sense of ennui born of so many Stevenses in one space all the time. He decided to make a break. He opened the white pages and searched for a club starting with the letter T.

"Thor's Hammer: Valhalla on Earth! Come for our shots of Odin's sweat, and relax in Loki's Lounge!" He wrote down the address, thinking this place seemed worth a try.

He stepped out of his taxi and saw a gigantic door made of wooden beams braced together with brass brackets. Small letters are burned into the wood: Thor’s Hammer. He’s about to grab the handle as a window opens in the door “Password?” A voice said. He ventured his best guess.

Turns out “octopus” wasn’t it. After his 4th guess at the password, the small window slid shut, and the ancient, wooden door creaked ajar. “Good thing I read the whole dictionary last night,” he thought to himself as he waddled forward.

The cruel irony— he could remember every word in the English dictionary, but couldn’t remember his own father. As he walked in the door he was met with a familiar must; a predator was close

When his father would hit his mother, he would dive further into the dictionary, memorizing everything he could to block out the present. Falling in love with a world of words kept him safe from the realities of home.

It was easier to commit to a book than to look at his mom's face.

His guilt poured out onto the pages he was supposed to be reading, but try as he might he just couldn't concentrate. All at once his glare stopped and fixed on the word, that one word that he knew would...

Change the future of the custom injection-molding industry forever. "Alack!" He shouted, barely able to contain his abandon. "Adding this to my patent will make us millions!" And his guilt evaporated, replaced by the cool, amoral certitude only excessive amounts of cash can buy.

Eureka in Loki’s Lounge

Toi Valentine

“Scalpel, stat!” shouted Dreardra. She had never operated on a minotaur—no one had—but now the fate of the world was literally in her hands.

Dreardra clutched her scalpel and glared at the figure across the operating theater. She'd never practiced medicine with a veterinarian before but then again she'd never operated on a specimen like this. The vet indicated placement of the first incision and Dreardra went to work.

She placed her hand on the creatures chest. Her fingers left deep indents in the soft flesh, its skin was warm and sticky, like a fruit roll up that had been left out in sun. As she cut down the creatures side, she caught a strange reflection in the scalpel's blade.

She quickly averted her eyes. Someone had come to observe her strange surgery. A person from the past. Someone who knew she couldn't legally practice medicine in the state of Kentucky. She paused her dissection of this strange creature and faced her own demon.

“Dad?” She asked cautiously. As if jolted by her own fear, the creature on the table stirred. “Honey, you know you are not licensed in Kentucky”. She dropped the scalpel and ran out of the room. Leaving her father behind to explain her issues with delusional behavior.

"She thinks she's a vet one day, and a scientist the next, and a surgeon the next day. I don't know how she found you or talked you into this, but I imagine you were pretty desperate to even listen to her at all. And your situation is nothing if not desperate right now."

It makes me wonder, honestly. What's the point? What do you think you'll gain from all this? Desperate or not. Is it worth it?

“Is it worth it?! Are you asking me if doing this one tiny thing is worth a lifetime supply of those tiny freeze dried marshmallows you get in SwissMiss?! I don’t even know you anymore.” And then I realized he was right. 

...Those things were delicious.

Nat Steinsultz
@natsteinsultz

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Nat Steinsultz@natsteinsultz

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Nat's Stories

Nat Steinsultz
@natsteinsultz

Awards
Earned

Member
Since