A clear, sharp shot cracked out. People screamed, began running in every direction, or simply froze. The photographer instantly ducked, jerking his head left, then right, searching, packing his kits as he started waddling quickly backwards toward Basil Street, toward Zafir’s coffee shop.

Another shot, this time from much closer, louder, a different gun. Again the photographer jinked, turned and ran a zigzag pattern like a trained soldier. Zafir actually saw a puff of limestone express off the building just above the cameraman’s head. The photographer was the target! Multiple shooters were out there.

Full panic was now building on the street. People burst into the shop, pointing, shouting, shrieking. Cell phones whipped out and people started making calls or recording images. Zafir pulled back into the corner as far as he could squeeze, out of the window. Glancing up the street, he couldn’t see the Americans anymore. People were running on Brompton as well. Given its recent tragic history, London doesn’t react to street carnage very well. Zafir clearly saw the photographer dash by the entrance to the coffee house, his older face steeled, jaw tight, white ponytail flying, all the look and moves of someone who has been under fire before.

Jim Daddio

Las Vegas Dead

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The roller coaster picked up speed. We were flying through space one hundred stories above the ground at thirty-two miles an hour. I held on for dear life. Suddenly I felt an arm around my neck. My whole body was lifted up as I struggled to get free. I reached back with my left hand and threw my arm around the neck of The Chief. I tried pulling, but his grip was stronger than mine.

The roller coaster sped through space, high above Las Vegas. The wind whistled around me as I tried to hold on to the bar with my feet. People in front of us paid no attention to the fact that The Chief was trying to throw me out of the swiftly moving ride.

The Chief pulled harder. “You’re going flying, Decco, you piece of shit.”

I didn’t reply. Again I pulled at his head but he didn’t move. I yanked harder. With the other hand, I threw an ineffective punch to his head. He jerked back, but shook it off. The Chief tugged harder and lifted me out of the seat. I straightened out my body and pressed my feet against the front of the car. Using all my strength, I pushed off the front of the car. I flipped backwards. My momentum caused me to slip out of the grasp of The Chief and land on top of him.

The Chief cursed, regrouped and tightened his grip around my neck. “I guess I’ll strangle you and then throw you over.”

Beth Lapin

To Say Goodbye

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Maia gazed out at the horizon, conscious of this new person standing near her. Maybe he would be the one to bring her life back to solid ground. Maybe he could fill the empty spot in her heart and at the breakfast table. Maybe he would—his voice interrupted her thoughts.

“You look a million miles away.”

Pulled back from her fantasy, she responded, trying not to blush, “I feel transported when I’m here on days like this.”

Ben side-glanced at the woman standing next to him, her head reaching his shoulder. “The water has that effect on me too.”

She turned and looked inland. “Just watch the waves wash up on the shore. It looks as though the beach is running away from them.”

“You’re right,” Ben nodded. “Then the waves pull back from the shore. It’s a pattern. First one, and then the other, running away from each other.”

There was silence except for waves lapping at the jetty below them. Maia noticed a quizzical look on Ben’s otherwise attractive face. Maybe he thought that was weird. Or maybe he was just squinting because of the sun, she hoped.

As he caught her looking at him, his expression changed to a smile.

“Our dogs like each other,” he said, gesturing to where they were running after each other, first one in the lead and then the other. Sand was flying, black and tan tails were wagging, and excited yips were being exchanged. Ben sighed slightly and continued, “Dogs have it so easy. They make new friends all the time and enjoy themselves without worrying if it will last or what it means. Next time, I’m coming back as a dog.”

Maia laughed and they returned to the parking lot. She thought that maybe it wasn’t easy for Ben to meet new people. It sure wasn’t for her either, she acknowledged, although she hadn’t really been trying to find anyone. She was still adjusting to the change in her status from married to single, again.

Jan Netolicky

The Skipworth Summer

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I promised myself I would never go back. But then, I’ve broken promises before. Fortified by the enthusiasm of my ninth graders (Mr. Benedict, Dude, you should SO go), I packed an overnighter, gassed up the Nova, and headed north.

Highway 7 west of Little Rock through Jasper is a little piece of motor-head heaven. The views are incredible and the road fun to drive. Those winding bends never reveal what’s ahead, and then suddenly you’re practically meeting yourself on a tight, hairpin turn. I took my time, stopping briefly in Harrison before making my way into Berryville and that little corner building on Church Street.

Skip’s is no longer there, of course. I’ve heard the building has housed everything from an antiques store to a bait shop over the years. It’s a tea room now, but I’m betting it won’t last. Nothing does. The Wal-Mart Supercenter on the north edge of town has sapped the flavor from the old town square. Even so, I could still make out the faded mural painted on the side of the old barber shop. I ran my hand along the rough bricks, then walked around to the glass front and tried to peer in. The place was closed and the dark impenetrable. When I stepped back, though, I could see my reflection in the glass. Whether it was a trick of light from the afternoon sun or just a wave of nostalgia, the years seemed to slip away, and I was just a frightened fifteen-year-old kid with a chip on my shoulder. I looked down at my hands, expecting…

M. A. Street

The Third Life

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This time when he woke in the darkness he was paralyzed, immobile, as if wrapped in a separate skin. His arms were folded at his chest, his knees curled toward it. He could wiggle his fingers and toes but little else. He managed to slowly turn his whole body with a shrug of his shoulders and faced again the immeasurable vastness of the darkness of death. The light floated as a distant halo upon some unknown horizon. Part of him longed for it, inexplicably and unconsciously, just as a part of him was deathly afraid.

Then across the endless black sky he caught a glimpse of motion. Tiny pinpricks of light were moving toward the far edge and disappearing beyond it. Thousands upon thousands floated like fireflies, so faint they were hardly noticeable, like distant stars that twinkled and were lost

Coming Next Month

No Time For Goodbye by Mary Jean Kelso

Of Dove and Falcon by Mary Brockway

Pacific Paradox by Kev Richardson

Regarding Kimberley by Vera Berry Burrows

The Secret Room of Eidt House by Dorothy Bodoin