Memories

When I walked into the restaurant, everyone yelled surprise and my heart palpitated with joy. A large sign above the room read “Happy Birthday, Breanna,” and my eyes watered. It was overwhelming with family and friends vying for my attention to plant kisses on my cheek, but thankfully my best friend Tina asked everyone to take a seat.

Tina asked us to raise our glasses for a toast, and I teared at the memories she shared. It didn’t seem possible it was that long ago when we were young and couldn’t wait to grow up.

If only Ted was here.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Spring Breakers

"I can't believe we're in Florida!" Jenny had been excessively excited the entire drive. All the begging and bargaining had totally been worth it.

"I can't believe your parents let you come." Jackson had laid money she'd be unable to convince her notoriously strict mom to let her spend an entire week unsupervised.

"They trust me."

"That's because you're the most boring girl in all of Michigan." This from Debbie, her equally boring best friend.

"Whatever. You're the one who brought the cards. I'm going alone by the way."

Everyone cheered. This was going to be the best week ever.

Man's Best Friend

My wife said I treated Tobasco better than I treated the kids. I walked him three times a day.

I took him water skiing and skydiving. I fed him rib tips and chili for dinner. He's ridden shotgun

in my Ferrari more than my wife. She has a conniption because I gave Tobasco a 24-karat gold

funeral with a sterling silver tombstone and cremated her mother. The heifer didn't like me anyway.

Tobasco didn't complain about dinner, clothes, and require $1000 cell phones. He didn't fail in

school and talk back. Excuse me while I cry and blow snot everywhere.

From Guest Contributor Gary L. Dozier

Fool

People stared as my white wedding gown dragged along the pathway to the motel room, my head piece barely hanging on. I shut the door and removed the pins from my hair shaking the curls loose. That snake cheated on me with my best friend on our wedding day. I snuck to the house and packed a bag as soon as I saw them together. Now I’m in this dumpy motel, my wedding gown thrown on a chair that has cigarette burns, while staring blankly at the television.

I won’t be made a fool of.

They’ll find that out soon.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Old Friend

I remember a much younger you, so energetic, so easily scared, so cheaply won over by a treat.

I remember you running in open fields until you realize how far away you are, then running just as fast back to me.

I remember the vet telling me you had cancer, and the impending darkness I endured for two years. When he admitted his mistake I wanted to be mad but couldn’t be. Those years were a gift.

I cherish all the hours that remain to us. I will carry you as far as you are willing and eager to go.

Friend Of The Devil

Satan ruled Hell with a malevolent thirst for pain and suffering, visiting the worst horrors imaginable upon all who entered his realm.

Bob was Satan's best friend. Bob defended Satan to anyone who would listen. Just because he had an important job to do, and that job was not all together pleasant, doesn't mean Satan was a bad guy. Don't confuse the uniform with the man. This was one of Bob's favorite sayings.

Those poor souls who suffered a Groundhog's Day repetition of never-ending torments hated Bob even more because he stuck up for Satan.

But that's what friends do.

The Whimsical Sun

It always rained where I lived, and the sun never showed its face. January to December: an encore of relentless grey days.

Sometimes during the summer break, when the gray became unbearable, my mother allowed me a night’s stay at my best friend's house next door.

There at her place, we would play late into the night and there was always an abundance of hot chocolate and stories to go around. Late mornings, while we were still in bed, her father used to roll up the clacking blinds, and tiny motes of dust danced in the sun, just like magic.

From Guest Contributor E. Rhyme

Fatigue

The day I wound a rope around my neck and jumped off the washing machine wasn’t even the worst day of that week. It started when I met my best friend Helen at McDonald’s for coffee.

“It’s your Harold,” she said. “He’s having an affair.”

I gotta tell ya, I laughed so hard, coffee came out my nose, and it was hot! “Come on,” I said. Harold doesn’t have the stamina to have an affair."

But he was.

And she was our daughter's college roommate.

And our daughter approved.

And I was too tired to divorce him.

So I left.

From Guest Contributor Pat Tyrer

Pat is a writer who hikes and watches birds when the sun is up and star gazes when it’s not. When not reading or writing, she can be found out walking with her dog Emma. Her work has appeared in Readers’ Digest, Quiet Mountain Essays, Black Fox Literary Magazine, among others. She has published two poetry books: Creative Hearts (Path Publishing) and Western Spaces, Western Places (Local Gems Press).

Best Friend

Candy crawled behind the battered settee, where nobody could find her, and held her knees tight to her chest. Sleepy raindrops smashed at the window, echoing like someone rapping at the door. Someone who cared.

“Rain will be my best friend now,” Candy resolved.

She didn’t need anyone else. People grumbled she had the shape of a baby elephant; people rolled their eyes and tsked tongues like she took too much space in their lives. Even her darling Beckie said she looked ludicrous.

She turned to the dotted window. “You don’t think so, do you?”

It tapped a little harder.From Guest Contributor Malvina Perova

Malvina is a warrior writer, creator and illustrator from Ukraine, the amazon from https://goamazons.tumblr.com/ and an artist at https://www.instagram.com/goamazonsart/

Divorced

I’m the son of divorce to the neighborhood. Parents keep me from their children. They don’t know my pedigree, they claim. Nothing against me personally.

They know about Dad and his liaisons. They slander over smiles and Sinatra. Mother’s a “hysteric.” Can’t keep a husband. Son’s a bastard.

Mother wears starched smiles for neighbors, weeps at night.

I want to fight. I want Mother to smile. Let neighbors hate me for loving Elvis, not for Dad’s idiocy. I want to cruise the streets, to be called friend. Best friend.

I’d be considered hysterical to mention this.

I don a smile.

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.