Compassion

George staggered into the hallway searching for Cecilia. He didn’t have much time and he needed her to make haste.

“There you are. I signed it.”

She sipped her tepid coffee. “Oh, George, can’t I even take a short break?”

“Just take it. You don’t need to read it.”

“I know, I’m your attorney. I read it already. Are you sure about this?”

George sighed and put the paper in front of her, pushing aside the glazed donut.

It was done.

His estate would go to Myra Ariello, the compassionate nurse who cared for him when no one else would.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Lisa has been writing since 2010 and has had many micro-flash fiction stories published. In 2018 her book Shorts for the Short Story Enthusiasts, was published and The Importance of Being Short, in 2019. Her most recent book In A Flash, was published in the spring of 2022.

She currently resides on Long Island, New York with her husband Richard and dogs Lucy and Breanna.

March's End

She can feel it slowly growing. All in existence is born of thought. It starts slow and deep, pounding, hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Expectations lead to disappointment, which inevitably gives birth to resentment. Everything buried from years past mutated into fertile embryonies, vibrating, taking on a life of their own.

As March's end nears, thoughts of isolation waver. A new world awaits those who are willing to embrace its damp offerings. Fruitful grounds to transplant the seeds vaulted away, protecting them from winter's crystalline grasp. New vessels to transport thoughts. Pollinating all those she will touch.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Preparing For Landing

Do we have to visit them?” the eight-year-old asked. “Grandma is weird and...”

“Grandpa is mean,” added her older brother.

Elsa observed the linear perfection of farmland below, largely ignoring her children.

At their age, she rode a tractor alongside her grandfather. They made rows into which other tractors dropped seed potatoes and covered them with soil.

By summer, when Elsa returned from the city, those fields were lush green having absorbed spring rainfalls.

As the plane prepared for landing, she knew her children would experience a different summer vacation.

The farm was no longer a property her family owned.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

Paid In Full

“Damn you. I hope they will make you pay for this.”

She stood up and walked out on me.

On our first date.

I had carefully checked the reviews and when I made the reservation I insisted on having the best table.

All dressed up, shaved and slightly perfumed I picked her up in my car.

“A surprise!”, I said when she asked me where we were going to.

Looking at today’s special of the Grill House, she could not stop gagging.

I truly didn’t know she was a vegetarian.

And of course, they made me pay for this. From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Time Passing Away

Time passing. The events to come? A wild nightmare or biblical prophecy? They knew the time traveler to the committee as the long hauler. Why? He had gone to the very doorsteps of hell and back. What had he learned? Hell was not such a dangerous place up to a certain point. And then? Then everything was what I thought the hell of. The point of no return. All your dreams could happen at the cost of your soul or spirit?

How close had he gotten? Moments of two galaxies colliding within a blink of your eyes. To see the end.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Blood

“Yes, I drink human blood, but only for ritual purposes.”

“The creepy man in the haunted house said that?” Timmy asked.

“That’s what he said, really,” Jonathan replied. “Robert said so. And he’s in high school, so you know it must be true.”

“Well, I’m not trick-or-treating there Friday. You can go alone if you want.”

“Timmy, don’t you see how cool it would be? You should come with us.”

“Sounds scary, not cool.”

As Timmy ran off, Robert spoke to Jonathan. “Talk him into coming, where else are we going to get blood for the creepy guy to drink?”

From Guest Contributor N.T. Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Escape

The gunshots up ahead are deafening. The screams, more so. I close my eyes and keep my mouth tightly shut to avoid crying out in terror.

My body begins to tremble when I hear rustling behind me. I am so frightened I can barely move.

A hand touches my shoulder. I know that gentleness.

“Come, my son, the way out is not far.”

Without speaking I follow my mother and she leads us to the river. A small boat is waiting for us.

She reaches for my hand, and we escape to a foreign country only to be trapped again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Night Skies

Raindrops fell softly with a hiss. Each drop shatters like diamonds when it collides with the earth, leaving a dazzling path that leads back into the darkness. Through the obscurity of night, the city lights are shining.

The air was thick with anticipation for what was to come next, leaving a sense of mystery in its wake.

As I stood there, eyes open to marvel at the majesty of the night sky and the glories of the heavens that filled my view, it felt as if time had slowed down, giving me a moment to breathe and think of home.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

So Hard

I was led into the room without introductions. With only twelve in my year at primary school, everyone knew everyone. But I didn’t know myself. I thought I was an astronaut.

Seeing the other two in my remedial class, I thought, Am I one of these?

They were Sharon Specs and Simple Simon. So hard accepting that I belonged in a group I’d ridiculed. Embarrassing being near them.

Months later, I was the only one needing extra classes. Then I’d discover I wasn’t really like Sharon and Simon. They were smarter.

I had to orbit Earth alone in my daydreams.

From Guest Contributor Duncan Bourne

War Without Rules

There were days when the explosions didn’t subside. The sirens became more and more frequent, especially at night. We began to sleep badly. Then one morning, while hurrying to the market, I was struck by flying debris. At the hospital the doctor first looked around to make sure no one was listening who shouldn’t be. “I just need to grab a lab coat and one egg and I can fix this,” he said. He cut my feet open and put pennies in the incisions before sewing them back up and wrapping them in bandages. He said they were lucky pennies. From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is a poet and collage artist on Cape Cod. His latest poetry books are Famous Long Ago (Laughing Ronin Press) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).