Woodlands

My emaciated body shook in the cold air. I trembled in the woods alone and I am so hungry and thirsty, my stomach churned.

After my family was taken by the Nazis, and I escaped by sheer fortune, I made my way to the forest hoping to find others. I heard families were hiding in the woodlands, but I lost hope and cowered against a tree waiting to die.

I heard rustling and there stood two men and one woman with guns. They lowered their weapons.

The man with the scar on his face spoke. “Come.”

I nodded and followed.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Cut

I had my heart set on a buzzcut. My mother forbade it.

But what she didn’t know was I had been raped. Repeatedly. I need this. She relented.

I grabbed my shears and made the first cut, leaping up and down, hands flapping all over in joyous stims. This is what it feels like to be in my body, isn’t it? I grabbed the clippers.

Three stripes gone. Nothing in the world could bring me down.

Five. Every bad thought, every traumatic moment that’s happened left me.

Seven. I couldn’t stop stimming.

Finally, it was all gone.

I’m me again.

From Guest Contributor Grayson Pride

Headache

The pressure was excruciating; a hammer beating against my eyelids. I had headaches before, but this was bad enough to send chills down my body and put me in bed. All I could think about was how I would get through my job interview at three o’clock. It was eleven o’clock. I had three hours to let the pain subside. I just had to relax and let the Ibuprofen take effect.

I awakened two hours later, refreshed and ready to take a shower, when I noticed a voicemail on my phone.

It was the company calling to reschedule the interview.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Jewels

The jewels felt heavy on his body, the golden necklace pressing against his throat. The servants applied the rouge to the corners of his eyes before handing him a piece of mulberry paper.

He pressed his lips on the paper, letting it sit for a few seconds before handing it back to the servants.

Staring at the mirror, he felt as if the make-up had done nothing to change his weary face, instead emphasizing it.

The doors opened, and the servants scattered as his brother walked in.

“Father wishes to speak with you.” Those words made him sick.

“I see.”

From Guest Contributor July Segers

Novel

The house I bought was built in the early 1900s. When I renovated, I never expected to find a note hidden in the floor boards from a distinguished gentleman to his maid from the year 1907. It gave me great inspiration to write a romance novel. I submitted my finished manuscript to my agent, and she said it had potential. The next day she sent it to the publishing house.

Several months passed, and finally my agent called. When I answered the phone, my heart beat quickly, the anxiety rising throughout my body.

The publisher loved it.

My first novel.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

For the prompts Manuscript and Letter.

Every Ending

Needle prick. Anesthesia kicks in. You’re floating, light as a feather, then you fall back into your body. But not in this dream. You won’t wake up again.

Harsh hospital lights. There’s no capacity to sustain you. To build homes in this scorched world. You couldn’t afford them, not even before the natural disasters. Instead, one-square-meter pods in space—compact and cheap—for your brain. For all human brains. Other body parts are redundant.

We need to shrink. Reduce our footprint. The resources have been exhausted.

Before your eyes, the scalpel blurs. Remember that every ending is a new beginning.

From Guest Contributor Bettina Laszlo

The Shove Seen Round The World

My family sings and we eat ice cream cake, the crunchy bits dancing across my tongue. We shovel sugary forkfuls into our mouths, laughing and sharing kindred stories. We are warm. We are comfortable. We are sheltered.

I am enveloped in birthday cheer the exact moment when parts of our beloved country erupt in chaos.

Whistles for justice pierce the air before biting clouds of pepper spray surround the faces of protestors fighting for their neighbors. There is a shove, and all the world sees a cell phone raised in a clenched fist; a lifeless body sprawled in the street.

From Guest Contributor Brigitta Scheib

A Day at the Lake

Cartoon fishing is bloodless but the one who landed on the bodies of trees that was a good excuse for a sweating can of beer in the red hand of Uncle John was a body, eyes peeled and gasping, flapping, slapping, impaled with rusting violence and the lie about the free lunch of the worm and I also stopped chewing, not because of my seven-year-old wiggly tooth but because of the hook in the ham sandwich my mother'd given me, the hook in the wooden deck of the boat, the hook that cartoon fishing is bloodless

and then she died

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Super

You’d probably call it spying, but how else to know when I should come? Sounds are a bit muffled after all this time. My body feels battered; too many buildings leapt at a single bound wreaked havoc on my joints. I’m not as fast either, for speeding bullets whiz by me, and this famous cape I still wear drags in the wind. Lois passed years ago, and where is Lex? Running some nursing home into the ground; I’ve no doubt. Yes, I fly lower and peer through your windows. I need you all now, more than you ever needed me.

From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison

Wish

I cannot tell you how long it’s been since my yacht sank and I wound up here. I remember the storm and jumping into the life boat, praying that the rain pelting on my head eased and a ship would find me. I must’ve passed out from the cold because when I awakened, my body was muddy, freezing and drenched from the water. Sand and ocean surrounded me, and the boat had floated back into the sea. I was stranded on an island.

I wanted to spend time sailing alone.

Every day I wish I went to a movie instead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher