Night Shift

When the wind blew really hard all the derricks had to be towed in off the lake. Usually it chased us off around ten. So my shift began with the promise of a shutdown. I would gather up the rangemen to go out in the skiff anyway, just to make a showing. I was home by one and could listen to the wind howl in my basement apartment till I fell asleep. The next night would be awful with me tired and everything. You should never get out of that night shift rhythm, no matter how good the wind sounds.

From Guest Contributor Paul Smith

Fool In The Rain

The rejection stings. Dave stumbles down the sidewalk, absorbed in his own thoughts, oblivious to the people walking nearby or the rain pouring overhead. Motor memory guides him back to his apartment despite never making a decision to walk home. He's too preoccupied with being left standing on the curb looking a fool. The others were probably still laughing.

All he knows with any certainty is he will never allow himself to be in such a vulnerable position again.

If only he'd been a few seconds quicker, he could have boarded the bus before the door slammed in his face.

That Summer Feeling

Stephanie walks from her apartment to the subway every morning on her way to work. During the summer, the sidewalks are crowded with fellow commuters and hawkers and a general hustle and bustle smelling of sweat and petrol.

There's a viral eagerness that has infected the city on these days, and she's one of the few people who's immune. She's turned off by the aggressive friendliness that so easily tips towards hostility. There's too much skin and fake pleasantry.

It makes her wonder why so much of her life's been given over to strangers and people she doesn't care for.

Regular Occurrence

The sky is clear, but not for long as bomber planes are approaching. As the blaring alarm sounds, Esme heads to the basement with the other tenants. Sadly, no one looks frightened as it’s a regular occurrence.

Bundled, but still cold, Esme and the other people sing to pass the time while others close their eyes or read.

Hours pass and finally they get the okay to go home.

Her apartment is unharmed, but a few blocks away buildings have been destroyed.

She closes her eyes and prays she makes it out of the war to see her family again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Escape

Jake and Emily look at each other dreadfully as they realize their apartment is on fire. Jake yells to Emily, “Grab Sarah out of her bed and I’ll get May out of her bedroom!” The fire is spreading quickly around the house so they have to think of a plan to get out. They end up thinking of a plan to get out. They use a crowbar to break the window. It shatters in the dead of night as pieces of glass go all over. Eventually, they reach a beach in Tampa Bay, Florida. Everyone is alive, safe, and happy.

From Guest Contributor Mikayla Wikoff

Headache

I’m having trouble concentrating and so I close my novel with a thump. Then I curse, having had a headache for several days that I can’t get rid of. On the coffee table there are piles of bills that I haven’t paid in months. Hence the headache.

My dog Charlie cuddles beside me and rolls over for a stomach rub. Sadly, he’s my only true friend.

“Hey, boy, thanks for always being around.”

I get up to take two aspirins when the phone rings. What I hear on the other end worsens the migraine.

I’ve been evicted from my apartment.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Until Death

When I rode my bicycle past the Nazis they laughed and threw rocks at me. They hated our kind, and it was time to leave. I had no family, and lived in a small apartment alone, so it wouldn’t take long to pack. I neatly folded my suits and placed them into the luggage. I took the money I saved, stuffed it inside my jacket pocket, took one last look around and walked out the door to the train station.

A few months later, the Jewish families were rounded up and taken to camps.

My heart would ache until death.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Happy New Year

The wind is howling, and the snow is heavy. New Year’s Eve and Times Square are scarce with the host’s expression one of weariness.

No one is here to celebrate, the weather keeping them home and comfortable by the television, probably sipping hot coffee as I’m doing, or maybe drinking wine or champagne to ring in the coming year.

I have the fireplace lit, bringing more warmth to my cold apartment. My dog Gatsby sits beside me, and we’re snuggled under a blanket.

The countdown begins.

And as the host gets to one, the electricity goes out.

Happy New Year.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Rotary Phone

The butter-yellow rotary phone was sitting on the carpet in the living room of the empty apartment. It’s cord and wires were disconnected and curled around its body.

David walked into the room. His eyes began to water as grief overcame him. He had not made it home for his grandmother’s funeral. He was not there for the disposition of the contents of her home, the home that was his refuge growing up. Now it was too late to say goodbye.

“I love you, gramma,” he whispered.

David bent over, picked up the phone, and quietly walked out the door.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Caught

The car is in park, with the air-conditioner cranked. I finish my ice-cold soda, and would like another, but I’m not leaving this spot. It’s broad daylight and people are walking to work or taking their kids to school. I can’t wait until this is over so I can go home and get some much-needed sleep. A cold beer and cool shower will do nicely too.

She exits the apartment wrapped in his arms passionately kissing. I snap the photos with my cell phone and text the pictures to her husband. I put the car in drive.

My payment awaits.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher