Morning Run

Keep your footing steady, prepared for the slick, the slide, yourflight, your footlessness, your unexpected sky view. Run towards thehazy white clouds, the early sun's pinkish fire, the black ice--alake, a mottled mirror. You know the quiet sidewalk, the barren appletree, the forgotten field. But this sea yearning, this siren call todive deep, feet first, into the glass, the shatter--is undeniable, animmersion, a full body baptism. You suddenly find yourself splayed andshaken, flat on your back, laughing at your air walk, your feet nowhesitant, dull--the morning light cool, the day transparent,expectant.

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

Bountiful Harvest

“Beautiful garden,” a man interjected. “Looks like a good harvest.”

Judy paused from pulling out weeds. “Not really. July was too rainy. Zucchinis are rotting on the plants and maggots have infested my apple tree. It’ll be a chore to salvage what’s edible.”

“Do you need help? I have lots of time being on my own.”

“Sorry, it’s getting dark,” Judy answered.

The man turned around and started walking.

“Wait!” Judy called out. “Pot roast is almost ready. Would you like to join me for supper? I too live alone.”

Harvest became bountiful with the start of a new friendship.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.