Sunflowers On The Horizon

The rows of sunflowers spread across the horizon, tiny flames of color against a burnt-out sky. Megan ducks away from the window, hoping she wasn't spotted.

"They're coming closer."

Charles scrambles on hands and knees from room to room, locking each door without standing up, praying the bolts will be enough to keep them safe.

"I'm scared."

Megan ignores his cowardice, once again apologizing to her inner voice for ignoring its many warnings that an RPG podcaster would not make a good husband.

"Just shut up and go get the pesticide from the garage. I have some sunflowers to murder."

Her Date

She didn’t let anger precipitate her tears. Not yet. She was intent on finding the man of her passion. Approach him head-on. Strike him repeatedly with fiery bolts as thunderclouds rolled in her eyes.

Stiletto heels clicked her steps up the runway to where he lived. She rang the doorbell. Waited.

How could he forget a special day or ignore it?

She noticed the door ajar. Pushed it. Entered a dark apartment.

“Surprise,” voices screamed in unison. Lights went on.

Her beau poked his head into view from the other side of the door.

“Happy birthday, honey,” he managed sheepishly.

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, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories.