Squabble

Up from clamor of Thanksgiving dinner, two voices drowned out the rest. Uncle Frank (Mom's brother) and Uncle Norm (Dad's brother), were at first pointedly not talking towards each other as they contradicted everything the other said. Then it was raised voices, direct, insistent, until they were shouting over everyone, ignoring their wives' pleas.

Then the fighting really began, first with silverware, then a carving knife versus a brass candlestick, then gunfire and light artillery. By this time, the two halves of the family had divided.

There would be no more Thanksgiving dinners until after the war was long over.

Snitch

Here’s my dilemma.

I’ve learned Roger is having an affair with a woman from work.

What?!

I saw them kissing outside a hotel downtown. I confronted him later and he admitted it, reluctantly.

Should I tell Audrey?

I assume she’ll be upset, though maybe she already suspects his infidelity.

I care about them both, but, as you know, Roger’s been a jerk to me since getting married.

Plus, I’ve had a crush on Audrey since high school.

So, you’re asking if you should snitch on your brother so you can get with your sister-in-law?

I am ... she deserves better!

From Guest Contributor Bob Gielow

A college administrator by day, Bob (he/him) spins tales in formats we all use when communicating with each other: text messages, emails, fictional Wikipedia posts, and diary entries all allow him to be clinical and thorough in describing his characters, their thinking and actions...without diminishing his ability to explore the resulting human emotions.

A Family Affair

I couldn’t help but keep my hand on my stomach as the baby kicked inside. “Jace, you can’t tell Jeffrey the baby is yours. It would destroy him, our marriage.”

He took a gulp of water. “He needs to know. If you don’t tell him, I will.”

I grabbed him by the shirt. “Please, Jace, don’t tell your brother.”

He pushed me away; I lost my balance and fell. I hit my head hard and blacked out.

When I awakened, Jeffrey was by my side in the hospital.

I knew from the tears in his eyes the baby was gone.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Bed One Lies In

Brother declared himself ‘nonconformist,’ deciding back in grade school that rules and rituals mattered not.

Many blamed him in situations for his lack of respect. He claimed he simply had no interest.

The breaking point was the forging of Dad’s signature on a cheque. Mother decided on a punishment.

“You have to lie in the bed you made,” she grunted.

“I never make my bed,” he grinned.

He broke the curfew, not returning on time. In the morning it was learned he crashed his motorcycle into a cement wall.

Mother stopped making his bed. No one slept in it again.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes mainly short fiction and poetry.

A Ladder To The Stars

For him the past was a story trove, for me it was a series of embarrassments that woke up and lingered like morning phlegm.

My brother tells another story on our porch. I notice how night falls earlier in mid-August. How the North Star rises off the horizon. How it calls me like a conjurer in an epic fantasy.

My brother will stay in this town and rise. He’ll talk about how the band played Forever Young at his graduation and he knew he was destined. But who will tell the story of that morning when I woke and wandered?

From Guest Contributor Dave Nash

Not Hurt

At 11:30 p.m., Mother woke and found her son Bin wasn’t in bed. She scurried into the living room and found the siblings watching cartoons.

“I was so worried, my baby. Go to bed with Mom,” Mother said to Bin gently. She then glared at Lan, “Don’t be a bad influence on your brother!”

“But Mom, it is Bin who wanted to watch cartoons. He begged me to stay with him,” Lan tried to explain.

Mother shouted, “You are the elder sister. You are supposed to take good care your brother. Never do it again!”

Lan pretended she wasn’t hurt.

From Guest Contributor Huina Zheng

Huina either coaches her students to write at work or write stories for fun after work.

The Client

Nights are always long in my profession

But tonight was longer than usual, for a client I never expected to had blessed my workplace. My brother saw his little sister lying legs open on the bed. The color of my client changed, from blushing pink to raging red. I searched for a blanket to conceal my bare body, when I noticed his disgust. On what grounds would he question my morals when he himself wanted to avail the services provided by our brothel. So, he dragged his feet right out of the doors he knocked on a few minutes ago.

From Guest Contributor Krishna Sehgal

Mayhem

The last time I saw Clara, she was by the door waving goodbye after our passionate kiss. I still smelled the scent of her flowery perfume.

I wrote as often as I could, but the mail was not reliable. I received a letter a few weeks ago that our son was born healthy and named Brian Joseph after my brother who died a war hero.

I didn't know when I’d see them. A loud noise awakened me from daydreaming, and I ran for cover.

The photo of my wife was destroyed in the mayhem when it dropped from my hands.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Scars

I weave between trees, around my bike and up the stairs. The screen door slams in my wake. Through the kitchen, I run for my room. Behind me, my brother stretches out his Gumby-hand. He’s within inches of touching my skin. Inside, a tick is dying to suck my blood.

Years later, I’ll run on the beach. You’ll chase me with something in your hand. Perhaps a periwinkle plucked from a nearby dune. You’ll hand it to me and smile. Say you love me. I’ll take it, hold the flower to my nose, and wonder what it wants from me.From Guest Contributor Sally Simon

Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.

Amusement Parked

One day city visit. While parents shopped around, brother and I went to an amusement park.

We knew what we wanted to ride. Had to first go past bumping cars, carousels and the like in the kiddie section. When I spotted the roller coaster in the distance, we ran for it.

One of the biggest, a newscaster once said. The TV screen showed riders gripped with terror, rolling down in lightning speed, screaming all the way. Adrenaline rush for sure.

“Sorry, kiddos,” an attendant hollered. “Closed down for maintenance. Should be running in a day or two.”

We weren’t amused.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.