To Peck AtBy S.T. Brant  Blow, souls, blow! An assemblage of birds is migrating against thee,
Congregated such they’d plenum Life, so dense a flock they caw in riot, at the sea,
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BurnBy Jonah Kruvant  It was a pleasure to burn. The slim, rough match between my fingers, the crackling fire, the campfire scent, the glow in her eyes—there was no place I’d rather be.
Lollypop Babies with Chainsaws
By Benson Lott
“These babies have been bad.
Real bad. But Cupcake City ain’t safe without ‘em.” WARNING: THESE BABIES ARE PROFESSIONALS DO NOT TRY FIGHTING CRIME WITH A CHAINSAW UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE (EVEN WITH YOUR PARENTS' PERMISSION) Blonde NoirBy DC Diamondopolous  Kit Covington sat on the sofa in her Pacific Palisades mansion with a cigarette lodged in the side of her mouth. A cloud of smoke floated around her head. She adjusted the oxygen tube in her nose, then brushed ash from her dog Muffin’s champagne-colored curls. The miniature poodle dozing in Kit’s lap startled when the camera crew from The Great Morning Talk Show banged equipment into Kit’s antique furniture. What Will Kill MeBy Olivia Cyr 
French Canadian and mean. We don’t talk about it—Daddy turned out alright. We don’t talk about it but it runs in the family, drips then branches down glass, then pools. My sister, me, our children, we are drenched in 80-proof. The Darkened RoomBy Kurt Luchs  The room is made of sighs and gasps and audible kisses, some of them on lips, we pull the curtains not to hide from the sun but to live these few stolen moments You've Been WarnedBy Kurt Luchs  Long as I had been searching for it,
I was taken unawares by love when it finally came for me, like one struck in the back of the head by a leg from a solid oaken desk. The sensation was not unpleasant, accompanied as it was by shooting stars, comets, bolts of lightning, small musical bluebirds and other signs and omens from the heavens. The Other World TreeBy Desmond White  The tree that grew from the other world was gray and spiderlike. Mary said its apples were black and tasted like chocolate. I wouldn’t know—I wouldn’t touch them, wouldn’t smell them, wouldn’t nibble. You can’t trust apples from the other world. All we knew was the tree grew in three days, and Mary said sometimes its branches moved on a windless afternoon, like a spider twitching a leg.
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