Sorrow

I browsed old photographs and hoped it would ease my sorrow. It was two weeks since he passed, and the heartache was unbearable, my chest heavy. I collapsed on the couch and clutched a picture in my hand. I revisited that day in my mind. He had just bought me a large pretzel and we were about to go on the Ferris wheel. Mom took the picture of us right before the ride. He looked so happy, his arm around me smiling, mustard on my lip.

If he only knew how sorry I was. Now he’ll never know.

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Gift

Philonik was born into slavery. He never knew love, and was barely treated better than an animal. Known for his obstinance and refusal to obey commands, he was beaten often and mercilessly. There were also times that he was treated cruelly simply out of malice, the victim of abuses that can't be repeated here.

He was subject to hard labor on a daily basis, until he was no longer able to handle the rigors and thrashings. He was lame, blind, discarded, with nothing left but to beg for the barest scraps, until one day he died.

Life is a gift.

Seawater

“Ed, I can't go on.”

“What do you mean, Mel?”

“The water… I can take seawater.”

“Mel, snap out of it. We're in the middle of the desert. We're dying of thirst.”

“No water?… You mean that isn’t the ocean right over there?”

“No, it's the desert. Just sand and more endless sand.”

“No giant waves, huh?”

“Mel, you're hallucinating. You're delirious.”

The sun beat down. Its photons were brutal. The high energy particles must have penetrated Mel's skull.

“No seaweed? No ocean?”

“No, Mel.”

“Thank God… You know, Ed, I always get a little nauseous when I swallow seawater.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Rental Agreement

They were only pygmy hippos, she said, and she was planning to have them fixed. They were emotional support animals, one for each of her personalities, so there was nothing we could do about it. The pond became unspeakable, even though it was still below freezing. They floated there in the muck like ominous little storm clouds forming over smog. Trucks delivering their crates of fruit and greens continually blocked the driveway. Then one day their gauzy pink wings emerged. Angels, someone whispered, despite the aerial bombardment of neighboring gardens that now commenced. Then the local population began leaving offerings.

From Guest Contributor F. J. Bergmann

Flake

Everyone considered him a flake. He had a way of chipping away at you until you gave in out of frustration or boredom.

You know how onions have many layers, and you have to keep peeling away until you get to the center. The thing is, all the layers are the same. You aren't discovering some hidden core that no one else knows about. It's still just onion.

At least with rock there's a chance you'll find a rare metal.

When Janine from accounting decided to marry him, we felt sorry for her. But I guess she really likes onions.

Mysophobia

His washing machine breaks down, and he won’t let a repairman into the house, so he’s at the laundromat, after washing his hands six times, adjusting his surgical mask and eye goggles and latex gloves, removing the cover from his steering wheel and dusting the seat before driving; then choosing a machine, seeing some schmutz on it, spraying it transparent, staining his glove, looking up to see his future wife hand him a fresh one from her stockpile of cotton, rubber, and plastic gloves, the surprised man asking, Is that a real hazmat suit? but already thinking, I love you.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell

Dougie

I carried my dog Dougie to the car, his whining echoing. I was too busy engrossed in the baseball game to notice his barking and I have no idea how long he was trapped in that wire fence while I cheered and gorged on chips.

I drove to the veterinarian at warp speed and hoped not to get pulled over. My heart pounded, but I kept my cool and talked to him. “It’ll be okay, Dougie.”

I slammed open the door and yelled: “Help him!”

“Don’t worry we’ll do everything we can to save Dougie’s leg.”

I sat and waited.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Wasted Youth

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"Agreed. All young people want to do is have fun, go on adventures, play sports, work out, join social clubs, have sex, see the world, fall in love, attack the status quo, learn new skills, create art, make friends, get high, topple the oligarchy, save the world from self-destruction, dance the night away, see how fast they can go, push boundaries, eat at all the cool places, risk life and limb, and trip the light fantastic.

"That sounds nice, but the reality is mostly posting to social media and binge watching Friends."

"Point taken."

Perhaps

Derek's wedding day had arrived. As a child of divorce he desperately wanted to know that what he shared with Mandy was true love. So on the morning of his nuptials, he visited Solanaca, the neighborhood witch.

Solanaca was known for her ability to read the future and cast hexes. For 100 dollars, she offered a potion that would compel the imbiber to answer one question truthfully.

Derek gladly paid the cash. Superstition prevented him from seeing Mandy before the ceremony, so he waited until the reception to slip the potion into her champagne.

"Do you truly love me?"

"Perhaps."

Porcelain Money

Everything he touched turned to porcelain.

It wasn't like a wish turned wrong, just a straight up curse, placed on him by unlucky stars, or an aggrieved warlock, or just dumb luck.

He learned to live with after a while. It was inconvenient, but he managed to eat by having people gently place food into his throat and swallowing without chewing. Soups mostly.

Of course his love life was non-existent. Porcelain people in various stages of undress wasn't much of a fetish.

The good news was being King allowed him to declare porcelain as the only form of legal currency.