Monsterlogic

by Ari Collins


"Did mommy and daddy tell you that bullshit?" I asked. He kept sobbing. "Well, they're lying. Of course there's monsters." He cried harder. "But! See, here's the thing. Monsters don't wait 'till you've watched their movies. Did they eat you last night? No? Then they won't eat you tonight. Okay?"

He nodded, eyelids beginning to droop.

Five Minus Five

by Robert Gryfft


John sat, grinning.

Dave just raised his eyebrows.

John said, “I asked her out.”

“High five! Where are you two going?”

John leaned back, squinting thoughtfully. “Gonna study for our math test. Maybe get
some coffee.”

Dave frowned. “Dude. High five rescinded.” He stood. “Math test,” he muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.

Show Your Work

by Robert Gryfft

“Seven times seven is thirty-six.”

“No, it’s not.” She sighed in frustration.

“It is, mommy!” His eyes sparkled. “Look, I’ll show you!”

She glanced up and for a split-second saw the space between his fingers glimmer and turn.

“But--” was all she had time to say as everything slid through itself.

Gut

by Ari Collins


“Not in public. Honey.”

“But your tummy’s so squishy,” she said. “How do you touch anything else?”

He coughed. “Train’s late.”

“It’s important. Like... like... running my hand along the railing back there.”

He looked at his shirt, then grabbed her wrist and turned her dirty palm upwards. “Goddamnit, Hope. This is a formal event.”

Until You Love Me

by Robert Gryfft


"Lady Gaga. Stalking you." She sipped her coffee.

He nodded, wide-eyed. “Her limo drives by! Late at night. She--"

His phone rang. He silenced it.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

He twitched. “Pretty sure it’s Tom Brokaw. He--”

He spun around just in time to see Barack Obama nervously duck behind a menu.

Everyday

by Robert Gryfft

The smell of her hair buoyed his chest as he stretched.

She smiled. “What’ll we do today?”

“We should check--"

There was a dry thud at the window.
He yawned, reaching for the shotgun. “Sounds like they’ve grown back again. Mouths probably have, too.”

Outside, a rattling scream swelled in the morning light.

Shouldergeist

by Ari Collins


“Can this phantom limb third arm thing of yours, like, touch anything?” She sipped our shitty frat house beer.

I shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like it bumps something. If I turn too fast. Mostly it just itches like fucking crazy.”

She furrowed her brow adorably. “Nice meeting you.”

I stammered as she walked away. Something had shaken my “hand.”

The Soma Truck

by Robert Gryfft

“And how many today, sir?” She batted her lashes at him.
“I dunno. Several.” He swallowed hard, eyes darting up to her and just as quickly away. His forehead shone.
“Five sound good, dear?” She purred.
He accepted with trembling fingers.
She winked and climbed back into the truck. The passing policeman smiled and waved.

The Time Laser

by Ari Collins


"Know how my machine works? Your brother did... or were you an only child?" Doctor Sepulchre laughed hoarsely.

"Moralman will save m--" Outergirl began as the Time Laser fired. Who'd she been talking about? By the time the beam faded, she'd never started the sentence.

"Eventually," he whispered, "I'll be the only man you've known."

Who Laughs Last

by Robert Gryfft

His key wouldn’t fit.
He heard a snap and looked up to see her walking away from the next apartment.
He looked back at his lock. "Fuck did you do?"
Something hit his back. A keyring. Blanks and snapped-off halves.
"Fuck you and everyone you know,"she yelled, and slammed her car door.

Tommy's Dreams and Gina's Six-String

by Ari Collins


She locked eyes with me as she finished belting out "Livin' on a Prayer," handed the microphone to a guy performing "Bitch," and staggered over, collapsing in the arms of... her boyfriend just to my right.

"That one's for you," she slurred, staring intensely into my eyes.

"Ummm," I said, and I meant every word.

In Dolor Veritas

by Robert Gryfft

He tugged at his transfixed wrist, and the scabbed ooze of his flesh twisted darkly against the nail. The smashed bones in his hand twitched as the metal scraped the ends of his severed tendons.

"You win," he rasped.

"Not yet," she said. She draped another fold of soggy newspaper across his wrinkled brow. "Soon, darling."

That's What

by Ari Collins


It's never about control. Here, in this dank basement, I help you tie yourself to your husband's college futon and I watch your eyes. Maybe it's about your eyes. They beg me; Jesus knows exactly what for.

When I want, if I want, your eyes flutter and roll everywhere, then lie still. So temporarily calmed.

Sweet Dreams

by Robert Gryfft

The moment lasted decades, her eyes locked to the animal, his eyes to her.

"Pony," she said, eyes gleaming.

"Yes, little one," the clown said, reaching for her flaxen curls. "Pony."

Her mother turned, shivering suddenly. "Come on, bubbie."

The clown raised his gloved hand slowly.

Mother and daughter fled into the crowd.

He watched.

The David Attenborough Effect

by Ari Collins


I changed channels. "Hey, it's Blue Planet! You blasted this whenever you fucked Kris."

He squirmed on the couch. "We didn't want anyone hearing."

"Real discreet. When we heard Attenborough, we always knew."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Frickin' Pavlov." He stood and walked stiffly to his room.

"Dude!" I yelled. "These fish are like spaceships, dude!"

ftl ftw

by Robert Gryfft and Ari Collins


Sol's final light glimmered tranquily at him. Shivering, he squinted at the too-bright gauge. Three, four more jumps. Tops.

He wiped frost from the timer with stiff, fumbling fingers. Before the numbers could start another last dance, he took a deep breath and pushed the button.

Nothing happened.

Sol shone just a little brighter.

Theory of Mind

by Ari Collins


Mary opened the Crayola box. "It's cookies!"

Dr. Pulsifer smiled. "But what will mommy think is in there?"

Mary looked confused. "Cookies."

"Let's see! Here comes mommy now. What's in the box, mommy?"

"Cookies," Mrs. Hambry said, then staggered and held her head. "How did I..."

Mary brought the box over. "Eat a cookie, Mommy."

h/c

By Robert Gryfft

He couldn't find the right balance of blankets all night. He spent too long in the shower adjusting the hot water, and jerked off even though he was late.
He didn't talk to her all day. He made a couple false starts, and she looked at him strangely. Finally he just said, "I love you."

Let It Ride

by Robert Gryfft

He spins, clicks, smiles, all balls and bravado.

Luckily, neither have anything to do with this game.

I put the revolver to my head carefully.

Click.

I grin.

Click.

He’s gone once so far. I smile ghastly.

Click.

He starts to sweat. I’ve gone thrice. And now:

Click.

I hand him the revolver.

Txt

by Tristan Parker


You see that girl sitting on the bus, cellphone out, always texting? She could be any one of millions of teenagers: glued to their phones, constantly connected. And she is. But she isn’t writing about boys, or movies, or school.

She’s writing a novel, 160 characters at a time

And it’s going to be beautiful.