Library Literate

I was the kid who sparkled when they walked in the door. The bookish brat who would make her father chuckle while balancing a mountain of literature above her head.

There, I discovered the internet’s secrets. Every minute on their computer spent in obsession.

My friends and I chattered like hens between the book shelves. We scavenged through comics like vultures through the teenage fiction.

I read novellas under the summer sun. I ate my lunches before memorial statues.

Every trip was coming home and every inch towards the door was a step back in time.

Until it was gone.

From Guest Contributor Alexandra Sullivan

Santa Ritual

I’m ten, too old to sit on Santa’s lap. Tell my parents. Please, someone?

Last year I was a brat, on purpose. Cracked inappropriate jokes, tugged his beard, farted on his pants. Hoping my message would come across.

Yet, here we go again. When asked what I want for Christmas, I belted out my thoughts.

Santa was speechless. Mom and Dad stared. Parents with kids waiting to meet Santa looked like icicles.

Then, I remembered Scrooge. “Sorry Santa,” I said, not letting him see my tears.

“You’re forgiven, son,” he replied. “The greatest gift is love. You already have that.”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.