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Str3ami3s by Cam Joyce

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Ben is part of a trio who have been live-streamed since childhood, with every waking moment manipulated for the sake of views. Image generated with OpenAI The camera clicks on again, all of us moving through the room in a hazy bliss, pretending we do not notice as it hovers nearer to our heads. The room is done up to exemplify George, a conceptualization of his bedroom: the shag carpet, littered with toys that we 'love', chipping sailboat wallpaper, graphic T-shirts some hard-core fans might realize none of us have worn, a meticulously intimately messy bed. "Georgie, you're such a nerd," Lily laughs, shaking her head, "isn't he such a nerd, guys?" She'd found an old poster hanging up on the walls, which was shimmering in her hands, switching between a few different movies. Her nails, red for the time being, crinkle against the poster paper, crumpling it. I snatch it away from her, peering down at it. "These movies are, lik...
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As You See the World by Paul Ryan O'Connor

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When Mía's car and dog are stolen, she leans on her lacklustre boyfriend Rich for help. Image generated with OpenAI "Can you describe the person who stole your car, ma'am?" "No, I told you, I only saw it pulling away, I didn't see who was driving." "And you left the car running, with the keys in the ignition?" "Yes, it's been hard-starting lately and I was only gone for -" "Any identifying marks on the car? Body work or bumper stickers?" "There's a big dent in the driver side door. The rear window has a SFPBR sticker - that's this rescue group where I work." "Anything important in the car?" "Yes! They stole my pup!" "A dog." "Lomi. He's an American Pit Bull Terrier, a rescue." "Is that the same thing as a pit bull?" "Pit bulls aren't really a breed," Mía said. "With all the backyard breeding, it...
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A Second Shot by Joe Giordano

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A drunk driver kills a man with his car, but the man comes back to life. Image generated with OpenAI Navigating through a mental fog created by a surfeit of bourbon, I tore around a winding Texas wooded road and triggered my worst nightmare. A guy suddenly appeared on a blind curve. Although I swerved, slamming on my brakes, I heard the thud of my bumper smacking into him. "Oh, shit." My eyes riveted on the rearview mirror and revealed the crumpled heap of a man lying on the asphalt beyond the car's skid marks. He didn't move, and my angst spiked. Swallowing, my mouth suddenly dry, I reluctantly left the car, approaching the body on shaky legs. Standing over him, I almost retched. I prayed even for a groan of pain, some indication that he was still alive, but no. Fear chilled my heart. What was I going to do? Blond, likely in his forties, the guy's bloodstained body was folded at the waist like a jackknife. I crouched down and placed my fingers...
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The Wahala by Tony W. Njoroge

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In a time when Arab slavers were plundering African coastal towns, Nasieku is captured by a rival tribe. Image generated with OpenAI The night was quite aged but Nasieku was wide awake on her mat of straw. She was too excited to sleep. In two days, she would be leaving her mother's hut for her own. In the morning she was getting married to Kamande. And how lucky she felt, as far as arranged marriages go. She liked him and he seemed smitten by her. Kamande's family had finally completed paying the agreed upon dowry of a hundred goats, ten cows and several gourds of honey and beer, according to Sambara customs. She lay awake on her mat thinking of her life as a married woman. As the night was quite advanced, Nasieku was thus deeply alarmed when she heard the rumble of the village drums. At this hour it could only mean bad news! She listened more keenly to the drums and frighteningly understood their beat - the village was under attack! Panicking, she shook her mothe...
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