Assassin's Creed Christmas (Sorta) part 4

Image Credit: Kelley C., Marblehead, MA The author's comments: Sorry it took so long with snow and all. So here's part 4! “Well this is…” she paused and looked at me. “Zak.” I said, extending my hand. She took it and I leaned down and kissed hers. Charlotte rolled her eyes, “So where’s Minny?” she asked. “She’s with her grandmother this Christmas.” Her mom said, eyes still studying me. “I did make dinner for two, but if your friend is staying…” I backed up, “Oh, I didn’t want to intrude.” “Nonsense.” Her mother said, planting a smile on her face, “You simply must stay, it’s getting colder anyway.” How did I fit myself into this corner? Oh yeah, I came inside. Charlotte led me to the table and sat me down, then sat beside me. Her mother served pasta and sat across from me. “So,” she said, “What do you do for a living?” She wanted to play me in a battle of wits? Fine. “I work wherever I can find it.” I said, putting a forkful of pasta into my mouth, “I’ve never found the right job for me.” She nodded then asked, “How did you meet my daughter?” Charlotte went into great detail on how I fought three men, one being Toby, and escorted her home. Her mother nodded, “What were you doing there?” she asked. “I was going to a job offering as a cart runner’s assistant.” I said after a short pause, “Then I heard your daughter and I forgot about the job.” We ate for a while in silence, then once we were finished Charlotte asked if I could stay. “Oh I couldn’t.” I said, knowing her mother probably didn’t like me. “Of course you can stay! Right mom?” she asked, looking expectantly at her mom. Her mom was silent for the longest time, “Guest room.” She finally muttered.

JEN MIERISCH: Chicago Shall Rise Again

Tomlinson raged to his feet, scattering the table and playing cards. “Cheater!” he hollered at O’Leary. “Go home, Tomlinson, you’re drunk!” As Tomlinson stumbled toward the barn door, his boot knocked over the lantern. For three days, Chicago burned. Tomlinson blamed it on O’Leary’s cow. Nobody alive could contradict him. Jen Mierisch draws inspiration from … Continue reading JEN MIERISCH: Chicago Shall Rise Again →


“The demons are coming,” the old woman said from the corner of her cell. “When,” the sheriff asked. “As soon as you kill me,” she replied. “What if we don’t kill you?” Cries from the townsfolk rose above the window. “That’s not how this goes,” she said, her smile anticipatory. C. P. Lopes is a … Continue reading CP LOPES: The Lot →


Lily sits on a park bench. Pigeons know her. They cluster… fight… peck. The children recognize her too: the one who feeds the pigeons. Lily giggles, opens her purse, sets it on the ground. “She’s crazy,” the children taunt. Pigeons though, coo, bob… fly into her purse filled with sky. Judy DeCroce is a poet … Continue reading JUDY DeCROCE: Lily →


Her heavy legs had stood and waited. Her aching arms had pushed through the crowds. A salty tear rolled down onto her tattered jacket as she watched the doors of salvation thud closed. The city was full. Now she had nothing left to do but head back into the sand. After graduating university with a … Continue reading JENNIFER KENNETT: Into the Sand →

AJ JOSEPH: Guardian

It protects me while I sleep. From the eight-legged reptile under my bed. From the violent poltergeist in my kitchen. From the woman in white with midnight hair down to her feet, who waits among the banana trees in my garden. It protects me, the strange being in my wardrobe. AJ Joseph occasionally writes at … Continue reading AJ JOSEPH: Guardian →