Thanks again to Emma Newman, @EmApocalyptic for being our guest judge! She pushed through, even though she’s sick today. That’s commitment. Thanks!

The nominees are as follows: (in no particular order)

Chris Blanchard, @blanchardauthor

Richard Wood @rbwood

Jeff Pfaller @pfallerj

Tauisha Smith @shells2003

Suzannah Burke @pursoot

Great stuff, guys.

Posted below are their entries. Poll’s on the right. Get to voting!

Chris Blanchard, @blanchardauthor

Seriously? This is how it all ends?

I suppose I should try and explain. Start at the beginning, my writing teacher would always say. But, no. Starting at the beginning would take too long, and after all, I am at the end now. So, I shall simply start there. At the end.

I am here, now, hanging from this precipice, looking back at my life, wondering if it was all worthwhile. I think, seeing the whole of it stretch before me, I am forced to say that it wasn’t. There were so many bad decisions I made, so many turns down dark alleys I took that, if I could, I would take it all back. I took long, winding roads to reach my goal that were, after all, very inefficient, and I can see, now, how several paths I could have taken were better, and would have lead me to a happier place much quicker.

Instead, I am here, waiting for the strength in my hand to give out. I bemoan that this is not how I should end. This is not how my life should end. What had I done that would have me remembered? I have wasted my life, chasing after a dream, hungry for it, but never quite doing the things I needed to in order to catch it.

And so, I tell this tale now, in the hopes that I can be remembered, remembered for who I truly am, and not for the mad genius I tried to present to the world.

My hand gives up, and I fall. I scream to the heavens. Remember me! For I am Wily E. Coyote, Super Genius!

JEFF PFALLER @pfallerj

“Am I still here?”


“Oh thank God,” I said, unclenching my eyes slowly to keep from being blinded by the bright lab lights outside the Chrono Decelerator.

“How many times have you traveled back in time?”

“At least fifty, if I had to guess.”

“You think you’d be used to it,” Amy said. She stood behind her usual spot at the control panel, filing away at her nails. Her right leg stuck out in front of her, left back supporting all her weight. The way she stood when she was annoyed.

“Were you…even monitoring my vitals while I was gone?”

“Ugh. Of course I was.”

“You haven’t even looked at them, have you?” I demanded.

“Everything is fine. Christ. You’re lucky I’m even helping you with this boondoggle.”

“But…I could have died! I could have created a universe ending paradox!”


I glared at her, trying to melt a hole through her makeup caked face. My stare went mostly unnoticed.

“So,” she said, brushing me off. “Did you fix it?”

“No. I never can. I’m always too late,” I said.

She flicked her eyebrows up, unconsciously. “Surprise, surprise.”

“She always gets on the train.”

For the first time, Amy stopped what she was doing and looked at me.

“Why don’t you just blow up the goddamn train station before she gets there. That’ll stop her.”

She went back to filing her nails, confident her sarcasm had done its work. All it had done was plant a seed. It was a ridiculous, inefficient idea. It would unravel countless threads in the space-time continuum.

But it would work.

“I’m going again.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m going,” and I hit the button myself, my last view of her mouth pursed in an “O” of surprise.

After the station was destroyed, I felt the tug of the Chrono Decelerator pulling me back to the time I belonged. Every atom in me blasted apart, and then slammed back together. For a moment, I was clinically dead. Because I didn’t exist.

I opened my eyes, the lights washing out the entire lab. I sat up, and looked over to the controls.

Amy wasn’t there, and my insides felt like they wanted to crawl out my throat.

I’d killed her.

Tauisha Smith @shells2003

She didn’t even realize he walked into the room until she heard the loud slap of papers hit the desk. Looking up into the intense charcoal eyes of her boss, she couldn’t help but ask, “Is there a problem?”
“Is there a problem?” he echoed, only sounding more annoyed that she did. “You bet there’s a problem. Wanna explain what this is?”
She looked down at the folders once again that interrupted her work. Opening the folders slowly, and skimming through the papers, she sighed. “Isn’t this the file you wanted?”
He rolled his eyes. “Miss. Stewart, I didn’t want you to give me the files on Davison. I wanted the files on Davidson. Is there a problem with your hearing?”
Frowning, Angela Stewart looked at her boss again. “Sorry. The files for Davidson. Of course.”
She stood, spreading her now trembling hands down her navy blue skirt, feeling as inefficient as ever. Her boss always treated her like this whenever she made even the slightest mistake. She was so tired of dealing with his burst of anger. She was beyond tired of dealing with his demanding schedules and never having a life. Most importantly, she was tired of telling Career Builder about it. It’s not like they answered her prayers of getting out of this terrible office, anyway.
The whole time she went to the files to grab the folder her boss wanted, he leaned against her desk, watching her as she carefully looked through the D’s. Muttering Davidson to herself, and occasionally humming the alphabet song to herself, she finally came across the problem.
Davidson didn’t exist.
Standing she placed a finger on her chin, thinking of what the problem could be.
“Well? Before I get any older,” her boss rolled his eyes and huffed out an annoyed breath.
Turning after taking a few deep breaths herself, she looked at her boss. “Are you sure you were looking for a Davidson?”
“Yes. A Jerry Davidson. It should say it in the email I sent you.”
She walked back over to her desk to look at the email message and see what the problem could be. Smiling smugly to herself, she turned her screen to look at her boss. She watched as reasoning settled in his features, and snuffed out the fire of his eyes. “Davidson? Or the Davison you requested in your email?”
Without even a word of an apology, Angela watched as he snatched the files from her desk and slammed the door to his office once more.
Seems even a boss can be inefficient sometimes…

Richard Wood @rbwood

I don’t like sleeping very much. Well, that’s not entirely true. Sleep, I like.

It’s the dreams that come every time I shut my eyes.

They always start the same. I’m in a big city. New York, maybe. It’s a beautiful day and I’m walking along the street taking in the hustle and bustle of city life. Relishing the chaos as I walk through the man-made canyons.

At some point, the dream changes. I’m at the top of a large building, overlooking the city. The view is breathtaking. That’s when I see it.

A plane, flying fast– heading straight for me. There is an explosion and a sense of falling.

Before I hit the ground, the scene changes. I’m in a field somewhere. The smells of grass and of farms permeate my senses. I’m happy.

I look up when I hear a noise. Once again I see a plane, this time it’s heading straight for the ground. In my head I can hear people scream as the large jet impales itself in the once beautiful field at my feet.

Once more the scene jumps. I’m in a building wearing a military uniform…

A noise, one less dramatic, startles me. I’d nodded off again, damn it. The cold sweat dribbled down my back and a wave of helplessness almost overwhelms me.

I see the door open and two men enter. One, I know all too well. The other is dressed in a suit and a tie. I don’t recognize him. It is this unknown man who speaks first.

“And this one?” He says in almost a bored voice.

“Sloane Peterson,” says the man in white. “Thirty One. Showed promise, but her mind snapped during the last trials. Keeps going on about planes and buildings.”

“All right. I’ll let the President know.”

“The President?” I said, my voice croaky, while trying to stand. This man has the ear of the President! “Please sir! I need to speak with President Bush right away! Something terrible is about to happen…planes….attack…” I struggled to get to him. I had to tell him!

“See?” Said the man in white, ignoring me.

The suited man looked at me dispassionately. “Young lady,” he said. “There is no President Bush.” Turning to the other man, he said, “President Nixon will be watching the moon landing this evening. I’ll let him know the future viewing program is a complete failure and an inefficient use of taxpayer money. Keep her locked in here until we cure her or she dies. We don’t want word about her crazy rantings scaring the public, now do we?”

Suzannah Burke @pursoot

“I dunno Danny, seems a bit over the top to me, can’t we just give him a scare?”

“Don’t be bloody stupid, the boss said take care of him…and you know what that means. So we set it up and get it done. Just another accident on a high rise building site mate. No one will even blink.”

“Are ya sure there ain’t no other way?”

“Not if we don’t want to be ‘taken care of’ ourselves.”

“Righto, lets get it done then.”

“You call him over I’ll get the ladder ready.”


“Yeah, watch this.”

“Hey Nick my man, get your ass over here and get some practise in on working the ladder and pulley.”

“Yo, coming.”

“What ya want me to do?”

“The ladder is the one place ya don’t wear the safety harness, so Ya gotta get right to the top rung and stay staedy, we’ll be here bellow so don’t worry.”

“Yeah … are you certain about not wearing the harness?”

“Of course, now up ya go.”

“It’s mighty close to the edge guys.”

“Whatsa matter, you chicken shit or what.?

“No I’m good . Well here goes nothin’”

The younger man climbed up the extension ladder that perched on the edge of the building, as he reached the top rungs the ladder moved suddenly and sent him plunging over the side, screaming as his body hurtled to the ground 37 floors down.

Danny and Pete looked a little pale but had done what they where told. The matter had been taken care of.

“You two, get over here.” Nicko called .

“So, you been taking care of my son?”