Caden wakes with his arms folded across his chest, fingers digging into his own ribs. A dull ache pulses beneath the skin — persistent, like the ghost of a bruise. He rolls onto his back and hisses as the sheets drag across his nipples, rough against skin that had turned traitor overnight. The pain isn't localized; it radiates outward in concentric circles, tightening with each breath. He presses the heel of his hand against his sternum, testing. The pressure sends a jolt down to his navel.

[NEC, Birmingham, UK]

The applause and cheering gradually died down after ‘Hazed’, aka Hazel Donaldson and her backing band, had left the stage. Then the chants of ‘More’ grew until the stage lights went on again to reveal an empty stage apart from Hazel, a stool and an acoustic guitar. In the minute or so from the lights going out to now, she’d changed from her previous outfit into a simple white lace dress.

Suggestion 1

I had just moved in to her place when Tracy spoke up. We were christening her bed. I won’t go into those kinds of details, but I will mention how compatible we were in the sack.

I love old euphemisms like “in the sack.” Being an English major drew me to words. But before you criticize me for a useless major, I am also getting a business major.

So, Tracy spoke up. “Robbie, can I make a suggestion?”

I was in that lull, thinking about closing my eyes, when her hand returned between my legs. Yes, dear readers, she had my attention. “Of course, you can. I am open to any suggestions you have.”

“You have an unpleasant odor about you.”

I panicked. “Really, what do you suggest?”

Cruel Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I have always considered myself as a driven person – some might say obsessive. Whatever you call it, it has bought me success and the admiration of my peers, but I wonder whether it is also what led me into a cruel love affair.

Chapter 1

They say that you can’t choose your parents, and I for one, can heartily agree with that. My own parents, Duke and Daisy Smithers, should have had a better upbringing if there had been any justice in the world. Their own two sets of parents were aging hippies, living in a commune and growing odd plants.

I’m not saying that they were bad people on the few times I had met them, merely spaced out for most of the time. I’m still not sure if my parents had actually married, but the five of us children all bore the surname of Smithers.

He smirked. “I don’t wear anything.”

Another Country -14-
by Erin Halfelven

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

You probably won't believe this…but I recently discovered a trans-dimensional portal in my apartment. Literally stumbled over it three months ago...

Marcus calls at eight-fifteen — school run done, twenty minutes before he has to be anywhere.

"Wolves lost," he says, before I've finished saying hello.

"I saw."

"You didn't see. You checked the score at midnight and felt nothing."

"I felt something."

"You felt data. It's different." A car door, keys, the acoustics of his kitchen — I know it well enough to place it. "They're going to finish mid-table again. I've made peace with it. Have you made peace with it?"

"I've never not been at peace with it."

Chapter Nine

This was the second day in a row Taylor would be skipping baseball practice. Yesterday, he had been able to get away with not saying anything to anyone; when his teammates asked earlier, he blamed it on some bullshit his parents had pulled with a poorly scheduled appointment. This time around, he had to deal with one of the guys calling him out for it ahead of time.

“Hey, Tay-Tay? You’ll be at practice, right? Or do you have some studying to do with your girlfriend?”

Chapter 7: Chosen by Gold

Chapter 3

We just sat there, speechless, as she looked at her papers.

There was a lot for the two girls to emotionally unpack when they arrived back at Bethany’s. While it had not been Maya’s intention to tell Bethany of the thoughts and feelings she had felt for Tyler at the party, she had found herself doing just that.

This is impossible. My first dress. How could they do this to me? What a fool!
tradition that a boy gets a dress for his 13th birthday.
Jack and his friends made fun of the “pretty boys” as they were called.
On Sunday they could be seen going for a walk with their mothers.

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

After a man is stabbed in the back and dies, he wakes up in the Labyrinth with a new body, new power, and another chance.

This story takes place in the same universe as my story Invoker.

The following morning my mother first picked up the Twins and all our schoolbags from Niamh’s house, then on to Ciara’s. Ciara squeezed in the back while her mother sat in the front passenger seat. As we were about to pull off, Aoife remarked that Ciara didn’t have a seat belt on; there were only three belts in the back of the car. Saoirse unclipped herself from the middle seat belt, yielding it to Ciara, unclipped my belt, snuggled in beside me, and clipped us both into the one belt.

“Sorted!” she announced and my mother pulled off again.

The dial tone buzzes in his ear like a trapped wasp. Caden taps his fingers against the desk — once, twice — before the receptionist finally picks up. "First available is Thursday at two," she says, the words clipped. He books it without asking questions. The phone clicks back into its cradle with a finality that feels heavier than it should have. Petra's number glows on the screen beneath it, untouched. Data first. Then emotions.

Ashton wondered why he had even bothered to attend his prom. He was going stag, which said a lot he thought. Always there but never the main person. He looked around and saw all the people that in one way or another had made a mark in school. Bill the star quarter-back. Mary the head cheerleader. Peter, the star baseball pitcher, accompanied by his date Eric who’s batting (almost) always amazed people. Charleene the student council president. Wolfgang the school paper editor-in-chief. Martin this year’s valedictorian to be. Ashton had interacted with all of them and was constantly in their shadows. Perhaps that was his problem. All the others had focused on one thing they were good at. Ashton had let himself be spread out.