The best of the rest
A few more adult entries that CN&R editors found print-worthy
The desert wasn’t right. Our coordinates were set but then the shit went haywire. It was the Bedouin. We felt it; they did something to us.
Their Kadkhuda was this old man with a dead eye. I think he called upon something dark to come after us; old school desert magic. Now, those who haven’t died are going insane.
Brains. I shuffle down deserted downtown streets. Brains. Searching; always searching. Brains. A whimper near a burned car. Brains. I smell fear. Brains. Two people run. Brains. Why are they always so fast? Brains. Others join the chase. Brains. The man and woman are trapped, he shoots. Brains. Some fall; doesn’t make a difference. Brains. The woman cries. Brains.
Three years, eight months, and twenty-six days. Time. A small glass, a tumbler he guessed it was called, filled with fire. There would be a before and an after; he would have to live in the after, but nothing else he threw himself against could strike that spark. The siren sang, and the ship would wreck so sweetly.
“Tater, tater, tater.” Johnny liked to make up songs on the spot. They were weak on lyrics. The tunes weren’t so hot. But the boy had style. Damned if you weren’t humming “tater, tater” to yourself at the end of the day. He was the biggest thing that ever happened to this town. That business last year? No comment.
Boys Will be Boys
“I hate to tell you this Alonzo,” six year old Ronald confronted his classmate, “but I think you need the behave doctor.” Mrs. Forest opened her mouth in protest; Ronald’s words soared. “Because I went, and they helped me.” Alonzo glued himself to one corner of the room, and wished himself a super-hero who could walk through walls.