20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- You Will Believe A Pig Can Fly!

By Brian Middleton, Jr. Somehow, a fast-food chain should come from this... It'd been a hard year for pig-farmers everywhere, my father included.  Bacon just wasn't in this year, it seemed. My pa, sick to damn death (his words, not mine) of rich folk buyin' frog legs and nothing else, set out to do something about it.   He disappeared into the basement one night with a less than sane look in his eye. Three days later, he emerged, looking no more sane than when he had entered. All about him though, was the glow of victory. He was...

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- What Shall I Say To My Son...

By Dave MacPherson Good parents worry about their words and deeds every day... What shall I say to my son if I discovered he was going to travel back through time to the age of the dinosaurs for the sole purpose of stepping on a Jurassic Era butterfly so that all of history from that point on would be altered and he would get out of the calculus homework he was finding so difficult? The first thing I will try to convey to him is my unwavering pride I have for him, because usually people contemplating time travel in order to destroy all of...

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- Letters

By Gil C. Schmidt The paper trail of lives and loves... The first letter sped across the intervening space, tucked within canvas, the very day after they'd met. Its response, perfumed ever so lightly with lavender, criss-crossed the county and arrived into eager hands. Words, tender and fragile as soap bubbles, were being shared. Letters then flew and rode and were carted like butterflies on a gentle breeze, filling the summer days with yearnings and sighs, with new memories, new hopes and new fears of being forgotten. Fall went from butterflies...

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- Freeze Tag With Jack

By Dave MacPherson Some kids just play mean... Even then, I didn’t like freeze tag. It is a baby’s game. Pretending to be frozen after being tagged got old fast. We used to play real games: touch football, softball, or even volleyball when the park workers remembered to put up the net. But that year, around the time school started again, all anyone wanted to play was freeze tag. It was because of the new kid, Jack. He didn’t go to our school. Maybe he wasn’t even from our development. He just showed up to play. He was small and blonde....

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- Four More Words

By Gil C. Schmidt Words can be so hard to come by, sometimes. “Would you like a refill?” I’d forgotten where I was. When I looked up, the waitress was a different one. Finally. After the long wait, I was nervous. “Uh, yes. Please.” I didn’t really want the coffee. I think she knew that. In fact, I know she did. She filled the cup with steamy ink and walked away, her stride slow and steady. I thought about her face, the near-smile it showed when she offered me the coffee, the deep blue of her eyes like a summer lake. I put too much sugar in...

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- See And Understand

By Brian Middleton, Jr. We know superheroes are not perfect, right? I've seen this moment a thousand times in my dreams, he thinks, and his heart skips a proud beat in his chest. It is a surreal moment for the hero known as Foresight. All of his life he has had dreams of the future. All of them, save one, has been a warning of some kind, steering him away from heartache or disaster. But the first dream that he ever had, and the one that has been most persistent ever since, has always gone like this: He sees himself, as if in a movie, and...

20 In 5 -- Vol. III -- The Only Pure One

By Gil C. Schmidt One person makes a difference more often than not. The town was a festering sore on the face of the earth. A strung-out, ramshackle, decaying plot of ravaged coast, bordered by a gray fetid ocean to the west and pockmarked mountains everywhere else. A sweltering swamp in summer, a frigid ice hell in winter, the town had no name. It merited none. Several thousand lost souls crammed the town’s hovels; how many was a matter of conjecture and deadly bets. Thieves and murderers rubbed rags with pimps and whores, all of them hunted...