John J. Vinacci

  “Welcome to World News Today. I’m Che Colin,” the mocha-skinned anchor spoke, the reverb in his voice muted by his full-face military-grade gas mask.   “Alarming news out of France tonight, where scientists have discovered a new variant of SARS-CoV-2. They’ve dubbed it the Hugo-Unger-Gachet, or HUG, variant. Maya McKinnon reports from Paris.”   The screen cut to a petite woman with frizzy hair bopping a microphone against her similarly upgraded gas mask’s filters. “My apologies Che as we get used to these new masks in hopes of preventing infection,” she started before taking a moment to survey the street. It was deserted as was the café in the correspondent’s background. A few people in their windows above the street pulled back their curtains ever so slightly to monitor the situation as well.   “The latest variant as SARS-CoV-2 is the most contagious yet, largely due to its method of transmission,” she continued. “Once infected, a patient displays the ...

“They are going to love this pitch,” Brad said with his head pitched towards Maven.   “How could they not? Everyone is doing multiverse stories right now. But not quite like this,” Maven answered calmly.   Brad, for a moment, though that was odd. Maven hated pitch meetings since the pair’s ideas were usually rejected. On the other hand, they did have a really good idea for once. A few screenplays in hand, Brad opened the door for his writing partner and the pair entered the movie executive’s office.   The office in Hollywood Hills overlooked a large swath of L.A. The smog wasn’t too bad today, the sun almost shining through. Even Mr. Eichmann’s lackeys looked like they didn’t have their usual sticks up their asses today, though there was never hope for Mr. Eichmann himself. At least not yet.   “Alright you two. Knowing your record so for, unless you wow me right off the bat, this is going to be a quick meeting. What do you have?” The old man didn’t ev...

As I lay at the foot of the warm, cozy bed, a familiar scenario has come to a head.   “Well, look at the time. I believe that’s a five. Food in my bowl is not far behind.”   I will chew on this wire as I so often conspire, to wake daddy up – “Don’t sleep!” I interrupt.   I will paw daddy’s face ‘til his slumber’s erased. I’ll meow ‘til he gives in, because I’m a prick.   “Fill ‘er up,” I demand, my bowl to its brim. “I am so hungry and this cat waits for no man.”   “Rise, rise!” Our fates are entwined. The clock has struck five, eating is my life.   Ah, daddy stirs and looks at the wall. “It’s two in the morning, you little bastard,” he retorts.   “A two or a five. So I’m not good at reading signs. But since you’re awake, feed me. I’m hungry. Don’t let me die.”   “Alright,” he concedes. Alright, indeed. He’s not the dumbest of all humans, it’s the futility he sees.   “Here you go, now leave me alone,” he gi...

  Twenty-something Joe stepped out of his townhouse into the sun. Spokes of light bent their way around the few marshmallows in the sky and brushed the skin of his face. A faint breeze kissed his lips. A few townhouses down, a car alarm bleated. This was as typical a city morning as one gets; in the city, there’s always a car alarm going off.    Joe and his neatly trimmed beard slipped under the cover of his knit beanie. It was still Spring after all and the sun wasn’t getting up so early that he was awake ahead of his morning coffee. Truth be told, Joe was never awake ahead of his morning coffee, which is why he was outside this morning to begin with. The young man’s day never really started until that bitter black elixir slid down his throat. What is consciousness? Coffee, if you ask Joe.   The millennial took a step off his porch and stumbled as if he’d missed the step entirely. He grabbed the porch railing before slipping down the stairs entirely. Was it ...

Baldwin could not help but drag the tip of the broadsword through the dank cavern and over dunes of gold. The sword had belonged to his father and his father before that; it was a family heirloom he hoped to become worthy of. It was almost as big as Baldwin, though, and weighty. A weapon worthy of a king, it had certainly seen more bloodshed than the fledgling knight. Today, this boy on the verge of manhood – this boy just more than half his father’s stature – hoped his heart could help bear the load. For today he was going to slay Black Veritas, the dragon that once every hundred years laid waste to the kingdom. Today his victory over the beast would come before its latest awakening, thereby winning the heart of the princess, Princess Ardel.   Upon summiting the largest mound of gold coins yet, Baldwin held a hand out to stem the glare of treasure as a single ray of light from above bounced around infinitely. He stood in awe of the wealth strewn across the hundred meter cavern...

He’d climbed this hill a hundred times. It’d been 60 years, though, but the hill was still the same steep sonofabitch in the foothills few people bothered to summit. Jarod climbed, step-by-step, his cane steadying his once proud legs over the path’s occasional scree. Now, just like then, the journey bothered his left knee, only now a needling pain ricocheted from the outside of his knee to his ankle and back. It made Jarod gasp each time and he would chuckle; the pain, the hill, the memories – they were not long for this world. His silver mane tussled by the wind, Jarod scooped his head up towards the sky despite the sharp pinch in his neck and shoulder; it’s not here yet. His sexagenarian pocket watch – a gift from an unforgotten paramour – confirmed it. There was still time.   Time for what he wasn’t sure. To tell his human life to go fuck itself in the face of an Earth-shattering asteroid? To sigh in resignation that, well, at least it’s finally over? (And not just for him, ...