“Frank” by Fishspit

Yeah, I felt like I was thrown away, tossed to the hyenas.

When I experienced my first bout of mental illness at age 13, I lived in a place where mental health treatment wasn’t looked upon with favor, or not looked at in any manner. There certainly weren’t any school counselors, not like today. I’m bitter about that.Continue reading →

Peak Experience by Jack Cameron

     “Sean, we’ve all seen the videos. That incredible photo. We know the story of what happened. What we don’t know is what it was like for you. What was it like ending that rampage?”
     “Let me tell you, Megan, it was a peak experience. Do you know what that means?”
     Sean’s about to launch into his whole monologue about “peak experiences” like he has three times in the last week and probably hundreds of times before to freshman bar girls. Sean Harris is America’s hero. He saved my life. Three weeks ago he shot and killed the man who held a gun to my head. The gunman was Brian, a coworker I had known for four years. He was a nice guy until they fired him. Sean’s the security guard.
     When Brian fell after being shot, I fell with him. I rolled off Brian’s dying body and felt strong hands pull me up. It was Sean. He pulled me into his arms. I was crying. He looked me in the eyes. We kissed. Someone took a photo. It was a Hollywood ending to a shooting rampage that left eight dead at the Chambers Community College admissions office.
     My name is Katie Emerson. I’m a 26-year-old guidance counselor. And for the last three weeks I have been doing interviews next to Sean with everyone from CNN to NBC to even Fox News. We’re supposed to be on Ellen next week. I have yet to tell any of them the whole truth. Continue reading →

Boys’ Club by Christian Carvajal

     After everything she’d been through, it was a pleasure to just be alone. It was especially good to drive herself through this maze of DC traffic, her escort trailing discreetly four cars back. She sang along with the radio, an ABBA song to which she barely knew the words, and fantasized about ditching her protectors at a red light. There’d be no point; they’d already encircled the restaurant and swept its most private dining room. It was a mild fall day in Washington, the first Tuesday morning in November, and she relished being out and about as nothing more than a retired grandmother. Awkward reading glasses and a gray, knitted cap were enough to mask her identity at long stoplights, for who’d expect to see her driving a 2012 Toyota Corolla? That’d be like finding her wandering in the woods or something.Continue reading →

Harboring Ghosts by Christina Butcher

     You’ve been gone for one year, one month and eleven days. You don’t send me any letters. No long-winded explanation folded and pressed into an envelope, waiting for me in the mailbox. No email, either, despite the perk of complete emotional detachment our digital world offers. No phone calls. No friends dropping by at odd hours to pick up your clothes or books, all eyes and hands stumbling over each other, avoiding confrontation at all costs. Nothing. You simply vanished.
     So tonight, after one year, one month and eleven days, I burned the barn down.Continue reading →