The Pyramids

The new neighbors were installing an elevator in the three-story home on the corner. As soon as it was finished, they handed out tickets like we were going for a ride. When the doors opened, we stepped out into a blistering afternoon, where men were struggling with giant blocks of stone. Were they busy creating one of the ancient wonders of the world? It looked like we might be witnessing a miracle, but the air was stifling, thousands of years old. Wasn’t it time to go home and relax? Kick off our shoes, call an end to this crazy day?

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe

Man Out There

There was a knock on the cabin door.

Deborah looked at her phone. There was no service out here but it could still tell the time. 2:30 a.m.

The knock repeated, louder, more urgent. Perhaps someone was hurt. Or lost in the woods. But in the middle of the night, it wasn't her problem. She prayed for whoever was outside to just go away.

Deborah came to the cabin for peace and quiet. Now she was crawling on the floor as quietly as possible, peaking out the window.

Her worst fears were realized. There was a man out there.

Fallen Fruit

The peach tree in the yard was surrounded by fallen fruit, all of it shockingly well preserved, as if each one had been individually painted there. The house itself was in worse shape, with pealing paint, overgrown ivy, and several cracked window panes. No one lived there anymore but ghosts.

Sarah took in the scene from her car. She'd been nervous all morning, not knowing what to expect, but now that they were here, she felt nothing. She was simply numb.

"Let's go." Henry drove away. Sarah stared at the old neighborhood and wondered why people take pleasure from nostalgia.

Heatwave

They slept in front of stores closed for the day. Others pushed personal belongings in shopping carts.

A young woman missing front teeth stared upward as I passed. I crossed the street aware of an underweight cat doing likewise ahead.

“You have more?” I caught my partner off guard, showing the contents of my opened bag.

“How many you need?”

“At least a dozen.”

“That’s all I have,” he grimaced.

I resumed my mission as the sun lowered into its nighttime place, knowing that at some point I won’t have enough bottles of water to distribute to those in need.

From guest contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

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