Memories

When I walked into the restaurant, everyone yelled surprise and my heart palpitated with joy. A large sign above the room read “Happy Birthday, Breanna,” and my eyes watered. It was overwhelming with family and friends vying for my attention to plant kisses on my cheek, but thankfully my best friend Tina asked everyone to take a seat.

Tina asked us to raise our glasses for a toast, and I teared at the memories she shared. It didn’t seem possible it was that long ago when we were young and couldn’t wait to grow up.

If only Ted was here.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Spring Breakers

"I can't believe we're in Florida!" Jenny had been excessively excited the entire drive. All the begging and bargaining had totally been worth it.

"I can't believe your parents let you come." Jackson had laid money she'd be unable to convince her notoriously strict mom to let her spend an entire week unsupervised.

"They trust me."

"That's because you're the most boring girl in all of Michigan." This from Debbie, her equally boring best friend.

"Whatever. You're the one who brought the cards. I'm going alone by the way."

Everyone cheered. This was going to be the best week ever.

Campers

The scout leader told us, “There are three kinds of campers: those who watch the campfire go out and do nothing; those who watch the campfire fade and just comment about the dying embers; and those who see a need and they search for firewood.” He asked, "Which one are you?" Sammie exclaimed, "I'm the third" so he ran into the dark woods, pulled up a rotting log, and screamed, spooked by a coiled rattlesnake. The leader commented, “There are two kinds of campers who forage for firewood: those who get scared by a snake, and those who get bit.”

From Guest Contributor Michael C. Roberts

Traveling Salesman

Henry knocked on his 8th door that morning. The woman of the house answered, still dressed in her bedclothes, with chopsticks through her hair bun. A remote worker rather than a stay-at-home mom. The latter at least take the time to look presentable before answering to a stranger.

This initial assessment was essential, as he used it to gauge which of the dozen memorized scripts he'd start with. The company believed using the right script equaled making a sale, but in his experience it didn't really matter. Whoever first told him these bibles would sell themselves was the real salesman.

Road Trip

The scale of the world is different here. Distances become impossible, the sky so expansive the Earth no longer fills it, the fence posts that line the highway fly by until they blur into a constant.

Yet I can't drive fast enough to forget about you.

Time used to be fleeting, elusive. Now it's all become relative, stretched out in every direction, empty of all matter and meaning. If I can just reach the end, I might find myself back where I started. Back by your side.

But no matter how long I keep driving, I never touch the horizon.

Heroes

The fire blew the windows into the street, and pedestrians ran from the area. I entered the house with my fellow firefighters, and the intense heat hit me like a weight. In the distance I could hear someone yelling for help.

“You check downstairs, I’m going upstairs, I hear someone.”

I followed the screams to the bedroom and kicked the door in. Smoke filled the room, but I could see the woman struggling for air. I lifted the tiny woman and took her down the stairs outside to the waiting EMTs.

I went back inside, and we extinguished the fire.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Debauchery

Rick stumbled into the alleyway hoping no one would notice him puking. The retching sounds could be heard one block over. He got back in his police car and drove away.

Preston kept his hat low over his face while checking into the hotel with his secretary. During the five minutes of sex, he wondered where he recognized the desk clerk from. Hopefully not his congregation.

Barbara dropped one last token in the slot and pulled the lever. She was bust. They never should have voted her treasurer of the cancer foundation.

Just another night in the big American city.

Flyover State

Sebastian and Miranda scurried out of the shade to their makeshift white board, a section of ground where they'd used branches and whatever detritus was at hand to spell out the word, "HELP!" But the passenger plane was too high and too fast to notice them amid the long expanse of nothingness that constituted their home.

They both sighed and trudged back to their seats. Sebastian took a sip of his coffee while Miranda crunched down on her avocado toast.

"I don't think anyone is coming to save us."

"As long as we have NPR on the radio, we'll survive."

You Know Birds

“Look, Ed. the Sun's coming out.”

“The Sun, huh?”

Actually, it had been out, fusing protons into helium nuclei in its core. Daily, unendingly, for billions of years, it kept at it. Cloud cover had temporarily blocked Edna's view.

“Look at the trees. Let's go out on the patio, Ed.”

Squinting, she turned from the window.

“But the birds in the trees like to crap on me, Edna.”

It was true. They aimed for Ed's head especially.

“Yeah, Ed. But they'll hold off.”

“What?”

“Your hair's a mess...You know birds. They'd rather splatter you after your shampoo, not now.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Lost Children

One morning, the adults of Sycamore woke up to find that all of the children had disappeared. There were no signs of abduction or notes left behind and, even more curious, it appeared that many of them had packed bags of clothes and favorite belongings before they departed.

A meeting was convened. An argument ensued. The parents blamed the police. The police blamed the parents. Rivals and political adversaries threatened violence. The fault lines of the town were laid bare.

Eventually, a letter arrived. It read:

"To our parents,

Get your shit together or we're never coming back.

-Your children"