special
Travel Journal Entry #3
E.J. LEROY
A plastic bottle
Remnant of humanity
Universal thread
Odd thoughts while writing this travel journal entry. Faces and feet pass in a blur in front of arches and mosaics. Everyone talks about the architecture or cuisine while traveling, maybe the language and national dress. But there’s a plastic bottle in the road, a universal sign of both littering and global capitalism. In a flash, I see the commonality of all mankind, not through family, friendship, or love, but litter. The familiar packaging, the international brand name—how can anyone fight when we share the same water and imbibe from the same companies?
E.J. LeRoy is a Pushcart Prize-nominated writer with a forthcoming mpreg novella. Curious? Visit http://ejleroy.weebly.com.
Regrets
LINDAANN LOSCHIAVO
Native New Yorker. Poet. Writer. Dramatist.
LindaAnn LoSchiavo’s poetry books have won multiple awards.
Bad as Heck
NICHOLAS DE MARINO
Nicholas De Marino is a neurodivergent rhyparographer. More at nicholasdemarino.blogspot.com.
Tax write-offs for a goblin bounty hunter
EMMIE CHRISTIE
Date: 3/Dying Dusk/10,490
Amount Billed: 130 hexes
Description: Trench coat with flame decals
Category: Intimidation
Date: 18/Dying Dusk/10,490
Amount Billed: 16.4 hexes
Description: squeal-meal box
Category: Business lunch
Date: 9/Dead of Midnight/10,490
Amount Billed: 60.9 hexes
Description: Trench coat alterations, shortened hem by 3 feet
Category: Intimidation
Date: 5/Graven Dawn/10,490
Amount Billed: 4.1 hexes
Description: Cream for ego-burn from 8th grade elves
Category: Miscellaneous
Date: 11/Graven Dawn/10,490
Amount Billed: 3.1 hexes
Description: Drought of motivation to care about anything
Category: Business Supplies
Date: 14/Mist and Misery/10,490
Amount Billed: 30.2 hexes
Description: Fake Scythe
Category: Intimidation
Date: 9/Three Suns' Hot/10,490
Amount Billed: 108 hexes
Description: Paralyzing blow darts
Category: Business Supplies
Date: 17/Three Suns' Hot/10,490
Amount Billed: 30 hexes
Description: Full body ego-burn care
Category: Miscellaneous
Date: 17/Three Suns' Hot/10,490
Amount Billed: 208 hexes
Description: Application to leave region
Category: Management fees
Don't mind her
NICHOLAS DE MARINO
<<Hey!>>
This won't be like the last job. You're going to make a difference.
<<I know you can hear me!>>
And money. You need to make money.
<<You can't ignore me forever!>>
There's no helping her. She's long gone.
BBRRRING-BBRRRING!
Thank Allah-Buddha-Christ.
“9-1-1, what's the address of the emergency?”
That might've been too chipper.
“Uh, yeah, well,” the caller stammers, “my dog got loose.”
“Sir, this is an emergency line. You — <<He sounds cute! Get his number!>> — Animal control.”
“Well, thing is,” the caller stutters. “She's kinda aggro.”
“You think she's a danger to the community?”
“Yeah,” the caller says. “She's a pit bull.”
<<A pit bull!>>
Concentrate.
“Sir, where did the dog get loose?”
<<Like Michael Vick!>>
Deep breath. Hold it. Release.
“500 block — <<It's a dog fighting ring!>> — Street,” the caller says. “Up by Green.”
“You said the 500 block of Green Street?”
<<Send the SWAT team!>>
“No, Birch Street, by Green Street,” the caller says. “Look, I don't —”
Stick to the script.
“Sir — <<Let's get this fucker!>> — I, um, what's your name?”
CLICK.
<<What a jerk!>>
Enough.
“Look, if you shut up at work, you can talk as much as you want at home.”
“Who are you talking to?” asks the dispatcher at the next desk.
“Myself.”
<<Hey, he's kinda cute!>>
Why's it so hard to make a living?
Lost: One White Feather
TERRI ROSE
20.08.25
Reward offered.
It first appeared under my pillow twenty years ago, the day after my husband’s death. In the hospice, he promised to send me a sign from the heavens—proof that he’s safe up there, that our love is pure and eternal. I know in my heart he’s waiting.
Mrs Margaret Smyth.
Editor’s note: Obituary records show Mrs Smyth died on 16.01.24. The ad continues to appear mysteriously in print, despite her death.
R.I.P
Core
ERIN JAMIESON
you pretend the apples aren’t
bruised, peeling skin to reveal
mushy white flesh, never once
looking at me- french manicure
fading even though you were told
it would last weeks
from now, maybe I’ll remember
the tilt of sunlight on your soft pink hair
or the way your lip trembles
as I take your peels, discard them as if it’s that easy
to forget us
NO GUTS NO GORY: MACABRE QUEST TUTORIAL
ANTHEA JONES
You spawn upon a grassy rise.
Pink-fingered dusk creeps across the sky. Ahead, a cobbled path stretches towards the horizon. On three sides, the Dreadwoods scream your name. What do you do?
>> Follow the path
Are you serious? You bought a game called ‘No Guts No Gory’ and you're taking the path? Sheesh. Try again.
>> Inspect Dreadwoods
The Dreadwoods take their name seriously. You observe the twisted toothy branches, strung up skeletons and rivulets of blood-red sap. A gaping chasm opens in the pit of your stomach. You pat your abdomen and your hand slips straight inside! Your intestines wrap round your wrist in squelching knots and your liver pulses in your fingertips.
>> Pull out hand
Relax! It was a mirage. Now get your ass in there.
>> Enter Dreadwoods
You take charge of your destiny and stride towards the Dreadwoods. You're no chickenshit. As you enter, the last rays of sunlight fade and you glory in the opportunity to breach the cusp in full darkness. Your foot brushes a tendon trip-wire and a pile of bones drops from above, gifting you a macabre wig of carpals and metacarpals. What do you do?
>> Rip off bone wig. Dance like a madman and give thanks for this magnificent gift.
Well, Hallelujah. That completes the tutorial. What did you learn?
>> Go with it
Yep. Trust your instincts are against the nature of this game, and do the opposite.
Ready to play for keeps?