Unfinished, Submission 5 by Ryan Wrenn

“What if this is his tomb?”

“His what?” he says as he wipes the water from his eyes, looks up at her as she perches herself on the edge of the dock.

“His tomb. Like what if this is the last earthly testament to his existence?”

“I’d hope he’d do a better job at finishing it then.”

“No I mean, what if he fell in? What if he drowned in the same water you’re treading now? Who would know?”

“His wife? His kids?”

“He wouldn’t’ve had any.”

“Listen,” he begins and moves closer to her dangling legs. “It’s probably just some guy who didn’t feel like finishing it so left it. I mean we’re out in the middle of no where, why would anyone need a dock out here?”

“Well we’re here aren’t we? I mean he obviously started it for some good reason. And besides, why would he leave all his tools and nails and all?” she says and delicately, absentmindedly traces the outline of a hammer encrusted with a thick layer of pollen.

“Maybe there was a storm? Maybe he just didn’t care? I don’t know. Why do you care so much?”

“You don’t care about swimming in the same lake as a dead body?”

“If I based everything I did on the possibly proximity of death I don’t think I’d do much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re being ridiculous. C’mon, jump back in. Let’s swim back.”

“Can you check?”

“Can I what?”

“Can you just feel around and see if you can find him?”

“You want me to dive down and see if I can find this guy in the mud?”

“Yes.”

He stares at her and smiles. “If I do can we swim back?”

“If you don’t find anything, yes.”

He grabs at her ankle playfully. She kicks at him lightly to shake him off.

“I’ll be back,” he says and sinks beneath the brown water.

Early Morning or Late Evening Discussion with an Island on the Colorado River, Submission 5 by Jay Johnson

"I often converse with inanimate objects and sometimes cannot stand being me. But, the water is cool and the breeze is too, and I like this spot by the river's edge. So, Hello River, and, Hello Island, I see you over there, by your lonesome – not significant enough to split the river in two, but substantial enough to jut about the water's surface. I don't know why I described you, as if somehow defining your parameters actually means anything. Well, I guess it does. Defining things gives me a sense of control over them. I am telling you, Island, that you are 'this' and not 'that.' And, because you are 'this,' you're mine. Do you understand?

I think everyone (everyone being a general term for people that actually think about this stuff) eventually has a problem with the idea of 'significance.' It's just a different way of asking if anything one does is actually important, which is – of course – a very bland extension of the 'why are we here?' question. Actually I think all questions, regardless of subject or origin, are just a manifestation of that question. I won't, but I am pretty confident that I could show that any question asked ends up just being a version of 'why we're here.' Again, I won't, but I so totally could. Just realize when you are asking some teenager behind the counter at whatever fast food store, for a straw, you're really asking why you're here.

I'm sitting here talking to you about things that should be important – that are important – but I'm having a hard time getting past my apathy. I do the majority of my life utterly terrified, but I hide it. And I don't mean – 'I'm nervous about my fifth grade Christmas recital terror' – I mean fucking 'realizing your about to be in a car wreck and can't do anything but think about how frightening this is and how much this will hurt,' terror. But then, I ball it up and save it for after I'm done doing whatever scares the shit out of me. I don't know how I rationalize the fear away, but it all ends up coming back anyway. I wonder; is this how everyone lives? I can't imagine that my 'human experience' is all that unique or different from everyone else's. We're all just creatures of impulse – some of us are just better at ignoring the impulses. Either way, Island, I'm pretty sure the next big storm, this summer, will wash you completely away. T.S. Elliot showed us fear in a handful of dust, but I bet that storm will do the same to you with a bucket full of rain drops.

I generally feel awkward around people and I feel, strangely… guilty, about that. But, God, everyone keeps brushing up against me, so now I'm feeling angry. Please stop, but they don't, and every one of them, unknowingly, takes a little bit of me, like the water slowly eroding your tiny shores. All metaphors are tired. Attempts, again, to define – visualize. I did it again – in my complaint about metaphors being another attempt to define things, I defined metaphors… I just did it again. I could own the world… the whole fucking universe, if I could find the right metaphors and I know I can find the meaning of everything through any question. I think in long soliloquies to inanimate objects, sometimes animals, because I don't think telling a person makes sense. I don't think I want a response. We're all so beige anyway."

But, for a moment there I just got confused. My perception changed, and instead of seeing the river slide past the constant, immovable land I saw the earth flow past the constant, immovable river.

Where Will You Go?, Submission 5 by Lee Martin

“Where will you go?” asked Sara, her feet swishing back in forth in the water as she dangled them off the dock. Her pink shoes lay forgotten in the grass behind her. The muted orange sky turned all the shadows to dark green.

“I don’t know. Do you think I will be able to go places?” said Tim.

“I dunno. Maybe. I heard that you can.”

“Then I will come here!” said Tim.

“Come on! You have to pick someplace exotic! Remote! Like California…”

“Is that where you’d go?”

Sara paused. “I haven’t thought about it,” she said, thinking she probably wouldn’t have to for quite a while. “When did you find out you’re leaving?”

“A few months ago,” said Tim casually as he swam back and forth in the warm water to the beat of crickets singing.

“Does it hurt?” asked Sara, pulling her black hair back behind her ear.

“A little. Sometimes.” said Tim. “I will spy on you.”

“You better not!” said Sara.

“In the shower...,” said Tim slyly.

“Don’t!” said Sara, reaching down off the dock and splashing Tim in the face.

“You won’t even know! Sometimes I will be there, sometimes not. But for all you know I’ll live in your shower!”

“Oh no you won’t!” said Sara as she jumped off the dock and crashed into the lake next to Tim. She put her hand on his head and pushed him down. Tim grabbed her leg and pulled her under. They shoved and splashed for a few minutes before Tim’s mother called down to the dock.

“Tim! It’s time for your medicine!”

“Ugh! That’s one thing I won’t miss,” said Tim.

Sara skipped the funeral the next week and threw small sticks into the moving water and watched them glide away.

“Ok, that should be enough time,” she said as she stood up. It was nearly sunset again as she ran back to the house. She closed the bathroom door behind her, locked it, and smiled as she took off her clothes and started the shower.

Breaking the Water, Submission 5 by Charlie Arnold

Running through the woods it was easy to see how important this message was to Headquarters. There were only days left before it would end. At this point there’s no telling which side was going to win.

They weren’t the only ones who considered recon. The enemy must have performed their own, cutting off the lines of communication. Now the equipment was as useless as a string with a single tin can.

They knew the other side was more familiar with war. There were jokes that they were made for battle. We’ve spied some of their conversations where they said we were better at intelligence. Well I guess we didn’t learn anything from that one. But something on this scale was never expected. The introduction of navel warfare.

“Martin, I should have known. Who else knew this land better than you?” He was infamous because of the familiarity he had and the threat he presented.

“C’mon Taylor, you always use your best pieces for the final moves. And I was the one who severed your line.”

“I figured that much.”

They both looked out on the lake.

“Beautiful isn’t she?”

A smile grew on Martin’s face as Taylor looked down in defeat.

“False information,” muttered Taylor.

“That’s right. This was first thrown on the table as a joke. But when people get behind something and give it an awesome name like ‘Operation Breaking Water’ code named ‘DamnAmn’ it can’t be stopped. All we had to do was make you think we were behind schedule until it was too late. Now that my job’s done I’m going for a swim, you in?”

Martin was in the process of taking off his shirt and shoes.

“After all that running I went through for no reason, no! But I think I’ll sit here for a while.”

With a running start Martin yells out, “And the boys win!”

“Do you think we’ll have any classes together this year?” asks Taylor.