The Choral Rotundum

Every year at the vernal equinox, the entire population gathered for the annual Choral Rotundum. Arranged in a large circle, they sang the national anthem for 24 straight hours. The youngest babes held in mei-tais to the most geriatric unable to stand without the help of a cane or pole all attended.

The patriotic fervor acted like a drug, stimulating the vocalists to fervid attention, giving even the most anemic enough stamina to last the entire duration.

Or perhaps they were aided by the knowledge that stepping out of line or lacking appropriate zeal was instantly punished by death.

Sinners

When the Church implemented the new confessional system, Pope Earl the First proclaimed it would usher in a new era of community and humility. Father Gabriel had doubts.

"Would anyone like to begin?" he asked the circle.

Heidi raised her hand. "This week I took the Lord's name in vain three times."

It went on like this for several minutes. Sean was holding a grudge at not getting a promotion. Mel was jealous that her sister was getting married.

Then Tony raised his hand and everyone stared nervously at the ground.

"I've been sleeping with Sean's wife for three months."

Belly/Belie

I remember the push of the needle through my flesh, a burst of pain, the reddened swelling, and then the bruise, spreading like a distorted coneflower from my stomach.

“Sexy,” he mutters later. He pushes my sweater higher up around my breasts, leaning in to kiss the tender flesh around the belly ring. I look up at the ceiling tiles. I close my eyes, and I imagine this ring is a portal. I crawl through the small metal circle, into the deep hull of this ship--a stowaway, hidden from view. I smile. It works. He doesn’t even notice I’m gone.

From Guest Contributor Helen Raica-Klotz

Seeing

“Who’s that little girl over there?”

I stop buckling her three-point harness and look over my shoulder.

“I don’t know who you mean, babe,” I say. “There’s no one there.” I go back to buckling.

Her tiny, chubby index finger points straight behind me and into our backyard.

We are in a hurry, running late to the library’s story hour. It’s hot out. I exhale loudly. I turn my head again and then turn my body in a full circle to scan.

“Who do you see?” I ask.

She shrugs. She’s over it, as if this happens all the time.

From Guest Contributor Amy Bracco

Fool Moon

It was his initiation day. Just the thought of what was to come turned his stomach upside down, yet having to transform with the entire family watching was a nightmare.

When the time came, he followed the trail through the forest. They were already there, waiting in silence. His parents came for a moment to speak words of encouragement, then joined the others in the circle.

He took a deep breath then looked above him at the night’s sky. He saw the moon rise from behind the crest, silver and round, and he heard himself howl. Something inside him began.

From Guest Contributor Ioana Birdu

Dynasty

Scott surveyed the pieces, trying to keep track of the colors in his head. To his left, Evelyn sighed.

"It's no fun watching you stare at the board."

Scott didn't respond. Everyone was mad enough. They hated losing, and he'd won every game since arriving. Protesting it was all luck only increased their frustration.

He picked up the knight-looking character and moved it into the green circle. "How's that?"

"You win again. You don't have to be a jerk about it."

Scott smiled, embarrassed. He decided it was a bad idea to admit he still didn't fully understand the rules.

Mutant Frogs

“The grandkids found albino frogs again,” he said.

“We can see them much better on the grass when they're white,” they told him.

But they had found two more the week before, and he worried that the pesticides he had used had drifted into the pond and caused mutations. His wife wasn't listening; she was trying to figure out why there were two small dents in the flour in the canister just like last week.

The children herded the frogs to the edge of the pond. Where each splashed into the pond, a small, white circle floated on the water.

From Guest Contributor Diane de Anda

The True Meaning Of Christmas

Three-year-old Hannah placed a reindeer ornament on the Christmas tree while her mother put on the sparkling red star topper. The tree with its colorful lights lit up the room.

Hannah’s mother admired its beauty. “Your father will be very surprised.”

“Do you think Santa will bring me everything I asked for?” Hannah danced in a circle.

“Presents aren’t the true meaning of Christmas. We celebrate the birth of baby Jesus.”

Hannah didn’t quite understand, but picked up the baby Jesus from the manger.

“Mom can we buy Jesus a present for Christmas?”

Hannah's mother touched her face and smiled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

There Are Moments, Like These

where I see this beautiful creature’s frayed leash, the far end trapped under a great stone. So great I assume she cannot lift it. She tells me how time is consumptive, and while consuming us, so it must erode the stone. But the longer she or I stare, the slower it seems to weather. Is it any wonder her running throat is yanked taught? The urge to break the circle is the legacy of choice. Look at her and promise, “I cannot lift that stone. But I can sit here and wait until you do. Your wings, they're pinned beneath."

From Guest Contributor Nick Scott Christian

Nick’s poetry has appeared in Poetry Quarterly. He lives in St. Louis and currently studies at the University of Missouri-St. Louis.

Queen Bee

Melissa, Greek for Queen bee, settled on soft grass. Her flaxen hair complementing an array of colorful flowers; crimson roses forming a perfect circle, stunning pink azaleas beckoning busy insects, clusters of lilac hyacinths and scatters of yellow, white and red chrysanthemums. Her lined hands picked lazily at the daisies strewn across the well-maintained green carpet as she listened to the animated gulls chattering overhead. To be part of nature was relaxing and relaxation healed. The river's lively current swooshed at the banks beyond. She was at peace, just like her beloved Jacob whose dreary grey head stone overshadowed her.

From Guest Contributor Kerry Valkyrie Baldock Kelly