Feel Good, Inc.

The instructions were supposed to be quite simple to follow, but to Charlie the line drawings could have been hieroglyphs for all the sense they made. In frustration, he tore open the packaging and pushed out one capsule after another, swallowing each with a large mouthful of water.

After a few minutes, his anxiety began melting away, replaced by a pleasant euphoria he hadn't felt in ages. Whatever had been bothering him no longer mattered.

Someone called out from a great distance, using a name he didn't recognize. They seemed very upset. He held out his last few pills invitingly.

On The Money Trail

Family members need help. I oblige. I’m their doer of tasks.

Why me? I’m between jobs, behind with payments and I haven’t shopped for new clothes in ages. I guess they trust me to deliver. I’m okay with that.

No time to linger. Housebound auntie wants her groceries.

As I hasten, sunshine glues sweaty polyester to my back. I spot sparkles on the sunlit lawn along my walkway.

Coins! Many coins, strewn in a line towards the space where a car had once parked.

I gather, add up their value, sigh.

Someone’s emptied change-purse or pocket. My bit of fortune. From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.

The Indestructible Presence

I am no stranger. I have existed as long as humans have been on this earth, perhaps even longer. I have had many names through the ages. It doesn’t matter what I have been called, the outcome is usually the same. Whether you are human or animal, I will make you sick. You may not die but you will suffer.

Margaret learned that I am real, even though I cannot be seen with the human eye. My brother, Ebola, made her ill in Nigeria. My sister, Hanta, did the same to a handyman in Colorado. I am the ubiquitous virus.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Good News, Bad News

If it was up to me, I would be anywhere else but this waiting room.

I visit my Doctor as little as humanly possible. In fact, last Monday was the first time I’ve been here in ages. He told me to go to the hospital and take the tests. He said he’d call me back when the results were in.

I got the call an hour ago from the practice nurse. She said the Doctor could see me as soon as I arrived.

The news is not good. It’s twins and my husband has been in prison for two years.

From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey

A Man Among Ferns

He remembers waking up—ages ago—amid ferns, with neither a plan nor any desire to ever be waking up again at all, least of all amid ferns, which he had considered to be beautiful before he wandered into them and disappeared, hoping to disappear forever.

Now, almost a half-century later, he endures his almost unendurable insomnia in the broadest daylight his personal December has to offer. He sits with his journal at his favorite café table by the window, attempting to capture any fragment of last night’s dreams, but is sadly reminded—again—that not all attempts are successful.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette