To Sleep Perchance to Dream

by Stan Dupp

I stood at the podium, knees trembling, heart racing. My mouth was dry. I took a tremulous sip from the glass of water provided.  

 

“To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether ‘tis n-n-nobler…” Snickers and whispers floated from the back of the room. My mind went blank. My heart drummed loud and incessant in my ears. Eyes wide, I looked for something, anything, to jog my memory. An errant paper airplane came hurtling in my direction, and for a moment seemed to suspend in the air before it landed at my feet amid an eruption of more snickers followed by the sharp rapping of the teacher’s yard stick on her desk in a desperate attempt to restore order.  

“Please continue Mr. Kowalski.” 

 

“W-Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to s-s-suffer the slings and airplanes…” A loud laugh burst from the crowd.  I scrunched my eyes in shame, inwardly flogging myself. Another rap sounded on the desk.  I drew a deep breath and swallowed hard. 

 

“…Arrows of outrageous f-fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles,” I glared at my classmates. “And by opposing, end them, to d-die to sleep no more, and by a sleep, to say we ennnndddd…” And as I spoke the words, they echoed off into the hollow air. I blinked a long blink and watched the world slowly tip to the left, and with a muffled shout from the teacher, crash into my side.  

 

Black. 

Quiet. 

 

A circle of fuzzy light came first, then sounds filtered down as if from a long tube. Dark shadows poked themselves into view.  

 

“Is he dead?” was the first audible phrase. Then, as if cotton was pulled from my ears, “Stand back! Give him some air!” …and then I wished I really was dead.  

Written in the Dust of a Jailhouse

by: Kirsten Swore

My name is Charlie, and I am not a witch. That's a debatable statement. Half the county thinks that I dapple in dark magic, seeing as they have thrown me into this dusty jail cell. It all started a couple of days ago, when I went to talk to my neighbor. I hadn’t seen Walter for a while, so when I saw him walking up his walkway to his house I decided to catch up with him.

After I started talking to him, he started to cough uncontrollably. I assumed that he had been smoking, or something like that; so imagine my surprise when he looked at me accusingly and rushed into his house. The guards appear to be taking me out of my cell. These shackles keep strangely slipping off my wrists. Anyway, the next morning the court summons came. I was on trial for sorcery. 

Coming out of this reverie, there appears to be a crowd gathered around a stake in the ground waiting for me. I suppose that my tone of voice during the trial was kind of insolent, but you should have heard the questions they were asking me. The trial didn’t go so well, Walter died two days later of a bad cough, so they came and arrested me at my house. That's my story. You know the rest.

The Judge is here, so is Walter's family. This rope tying me to the stake is loosening. They’re continuously trying to set the logs on fire, but it keeps going out. Something doesn’t want me burned. The Judge should really take extra vitamins for that bad cough of his. My name is Charlie; and I suppose that I admit to being a witch.

The Date

by: Miles Ahead

Lily was sitting in her seat in the classroom next to her best friend Mary. She felt like the teacher in the front of the classroom was a distant speck. Lily was dreamily focused on Brixton, who in her opinion was the kindest, most handsome boy in college. Then the bell rang letting school out.  

Lilly swore that Brixton looked at her as she got up. When she was almost out the door, Lily felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to find Brixton in front of her. “Hi.” Lily managed. Then he said the magic words, He said, “I was wondering… If you wanted to go on a date to a restaurant at 6:00 tonight?” Trying to sound confident she said, “That would be amazing! I mean that would be amazing, or like whatever. 

The rest of the day was a blur. From 5:00 to 5:59 Lily was getting ready. She had a beautiful blue dress, a woven bracelet, and her hair was perfect. Then, Brixton knocked on the door. Lily ran to open it but her little brother was faster and opened the door. “Who are you?” Carter asked. Brixton replied with, “I’m Brixton.” “Why are you dressed fancy like my sister? Hey, I got it! You are my 18-year-old sister’s husband!”. Brixton replied, “No… but maybe someday.” Then Carter asked, “Okay then… what are you going to name the baby?” “Can you just get your sister?” Lily had been listening in the living room like a wild dog listening to its prey. Lily got up and said that her dad had been drinking a milkshake, which was a lie. Then, lily and Brixton went on their date, and when they got back, they shared a special moment that Lily would never forget. 

Siren Song

By Mona Lott

“Are you sure you won’t take me?” Joni asked her mom.

“Nah. You’ll have to take the bus.” 

Joni watched her mom put on lipstick and spray her hair, then Joni turned and walked toward the front door. She didn’t open the door right away but stood, looking out the glass. Heavy clouds promised rain. She put her hand into the pocket of her jacket and rubbed a piece of cotton between her fingers. She had carefully sewn the last piece of her childhood blanket into her pocket where no one would see. 

Over her shoulder was a bag with a single, heavy book in it.

It’s time, she thought. Joni knew she would need to hurry to catch the next bus, but she paused another moment before opening the door and going out.

*        *       *

Joni got off the bus in front of a dilapidated county building and paused on the sidewalk. She took the book out of the bag, exhaled slowly, and walked into the building. In the middle of the main room was a large, wooden desk. As Joni approached, a woman behind the desk looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

“You finally found it, huh?” She took the book from Joni.

“How much do I owe?”

“Six dollars and thirty-five cents.” Joni put the exact amount on the desk and turned around. She felt her cheeks flush as she walked toward the door. She would never get into this mess again. In fact, she would never check out a book from the library again. Then, almost to the front door, she saw something out of the corner of her eye sitting on a display shelf: “The Code Book: the secrets behind codebreaking”. Woah. “Adapted for young adults.” She turned toward the book. Well, . . . maybe just once more.

The Mission

by Amanda Lorien

 

The colony was dying, the queen desperate for food. 

 

I climbed up the side of the door, terrified, but determined to be the hero.  Peering through the holes in the screen into the Great Indoors, I spied our salvation – the crust of a peanut butter sandwich! 

 

My excitement quickly faded as I remembered the last disastrous mission to the Great Indoors. A small army of us had come early in the morning, before the heat was too oppressive and the sun too blinding. We hadn’t found much, but a few measly grains of rice were better than the starvation we were experiencing at home.

 

We transported the morsels quickly across the slick, cold ground, a long line of us in perfect formation, following the Commander’s orders to perfection.

 

And then, disaster. 

 

A long white tunnel hovered above us in the sky and an unnatural wind blew backward from the mouth of the tunnel. As the tunnel roared, most of our party was sucked into its black depths, crying in terror and pain, limbs and antennae twisting in unnatural ways. The rest of us were flung into chaos, dropping the precious food and scurrying to shadow. Even then, the machine found many of us in our hiding spots and whipped us upward to our deaths. I was one of the few to survive, though the last to return to the colony. 

 

As I now peered through the screen into the Great Indoors, I realized that I was shaking. In a surge, the terror of our last mission had returned: memories of the cries of my comrades flying to their deaths, the aches of old injuries never completely healed, the humiliation of returning to our queen defeated and empty handed.

 

I realized that I preferred starvation. I turned and climbed down.

Regulations Regarding Laser Systems

by May B.Dunn

It was a misty morning when Arthur woke from a deep sleep.  As he fell out of bed, he hit his head on the edge of his nightstand.

    “Fungal kicker!” he swore loudly as he bent down to retrieve the fallen trinkets that had been knocked down. 

“I wonder how this got here,” he said, looking at the small model airplane, the only thing left to remind him of his time in the Air Force. Then he looked outside his window at New Cella City.  The towering peaks and the skyscrapers’ glow looked magnificent in the morning.

   Just then his alarm clock went off, making him jump. “Ghaa!” he said in surprise. “Six already!  I need to get to my appointment.”

  On an ordinary day, Arthur would be going to the New Cella City Bureau of Dimensional Research.  As a scientist of great renown he got paid quite a lot. His latest project was working with his colleague John on a type of generator that runs on pure ghetalosachonium, a powerful and rare element. 

After  a quick breakfast Arthur got dressed and headed outside the doctor's office. The doctor he was seeing was on the fifth floor of a large medical building, the New Cella City Health Care Center. He made his way into the building through to the propulsion tubes and up to the 5th floor.  In the transition hallway, he stepped on a square glowing on the tile.  As he stood still, the square moved him across the room to the end terminal.  The vitals from the scan appeared in front of his head. 

“Room 5 7 B,” said a robotic voice.

The Night I Saved Prom

by: Justin Thyme 

Mary Ellen Stoddard was the most beautiful sophomore in high school—beautiful voice, a lead role in the school musical. I was just in the chorus, but I watched her closely at rehearsal—movie-star beautiful. 

My sister, perhaps not beautiful, was a senior, the best actor in the school, and everybody liked her, including me. She also had a lead, and she was secretly in love with Lars Christensen, the lead lead. He was cool: tall, thin. He could sing and dance and laugh. He took my sister and me home each night after rehearsal, and we sat in the car until late, talking. That is, they talked. I sat in the back seat mostly in awe. 

Mary Ellen was one of the untouchables. What made me think I could ask her to Prom? Besides, I couldn’t drive, and I didn’t have anyone to double with. 

So, I asked Mary Ellen to Prom, and I asked Lars if I could double with him and Karen Palmer. They all said yes. Perfect. We made reservations to eat at Brattens, 40 minutes away, after the dance. No one asked my sister to Prom. 

We had just gotten to the dance when Mary Ellen dropped a bomb: “My mother says I have to be home at 11:00.” Eleven! I had planned on 1:00. We wouldn’t get to Brattens before 11:30. Mary Ellen and I danced but we didn’t talk much. Prom ruined. At her door (10:45) I said, “I had a great time.” Right. 

I said to Lars at my house, “Wait here.” A few minutes later, my sister wearing a Prom dress and a smile slid into the backseat. Everything came alive. What a time we had. Lobster. Me and three seniors. Best Prom ever.