A treat to hold you over while reviews are progressing:

The current contest announcement will be delayed until October 20th – our apologies for the wait. TotZW has received an unprecedented number of submissions over the last few months, and we want to be sure to review 100% of them before making a decision.

Thank you for your patience,
-Ed.

The rap on the window snapped me from dreams of Jeanette and Bobby, sitting in the warm sun at Brayland Park.  Bobby squashed tiny ants as they scurried onto the blanket Jeanette had laid out.  She wore a sun dress, yellow and white striped that came to just above her knees.  He was in a baseball uniform, Junior Jaycees on the front of his garnet shirt, his number 9 on the back, along with his last name, WALKER, in white lettering.  I was there, watching everything through a video camera lens.  I wasn’t very good at holding the camera steady, but, thankfully, in the dream I held it just right. (more…)

Gunner and I ran like hell through the dark streets. We could still hear the screams. Air tore in and out of my stubborn lungs, but not fast enough to keep my sides from throbbing. That didn’t stop me. We ran until the road forked, then slowed to a walk. Gunner—at least that’s how he introduced himself, after I bought him a beer—thumbed toward a branch of the fork. I assumed his house was that way. He didn’t speak—too busy sucking down air, chest heaving. When he leaned back, I saw that blood had speckled one half of his body, from his face down to his waist. Screams came sporadically, now. One final one, cut off abruptly. Then silence. “Holy shit,” Gunner said, the blood on his face looking like chicken pox. “Holy fucking shit.” (more…)