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The Mongo UFO Investigation
By David Bain
Amish UFOs? Aliens at the flea market? Top secret military experiments in clandestine compounds under the general store? Men in black tromping through the fish and wildlife preserve?
And all this – or something very like it – in a town called Mongo? It sounds like a comedy by Mel Brooks – who did indeed feature a muscle-bound, dimwit villain named Mongo in Blazing Saddles, his Western farce.
But then again, Mongo is also the name of the far-flung planet ruled by Ming the Merciless in Flash Gordon....
A cool cosmic coincidence? A preternatural pun by a celestial comic?
Or was the Mongo UFO simply a misidentified blimp?
Under any circumstances, tucked into the northeastern corner of the state, LaGrange County, Indiana, and Mongo, one of its easternmost towns, with their copious bean and corn fields, are the antithesis to Roswell’s dusty desert environs...
Soul Sense
By Emme Saunders
Part One: The End
Snow falls soft through me, simplifying things. It seems to say, “Yes, life does and will go on Patricia. No sense getting all bajiggity over it.” Rust pieces collapsing from the back end of my orange Subaru wagon bring me back to earth. They hit the snow with a soft puff, despoiling the pureness of white and marking the place where I have found my spiritual intersection.
“Sir! That woman! She needs your attention, stop harassing me and do your job!” The gentleman with a punchy, violet Ralph Lauren tie yells to the policeman handling him. The officer huffs and jostles Mr. Ralph Lauren off the snowy curb where I sit, my car behind me. A heavy scent of wine lingers in the air as they pass, and I watch their haunted faces look back at the wreck. I follow their gaze to where the passenger side of my Subaru became well acquainted with the brick and mortar of the local city bank...
Itsy
By Misty Gersley
Just in time for halloween!
Chapter One:
Rain, Rain, Go Away
He was a fresh, new, twelve year old when it had happened.
It was in truth, a dark and stormy night. James watched lightening etch the dark sky from the safety of his own bed, covers pulled tight around every inch of him but his eyes. Persistent rain beat against the glazed glass of his windows, but he made sure (just like he did every night) that they were shut up real tight and locked, and he’d even double checked for good measure, so that nothing was going to make its way into his room tonight, not even a few drops of rain.
Another flash crackled, followed by a booming crash and yet another, and another. Gamma had told him, a long time ago, how to gauge the distance of a storm, and so at the onset of each flash, James counted One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi until the thunder barked in his head. The storm had started out far enough...