Eye Of Beholder

Todd had always put others before himself, which had brought a sense of well-being and worth when he was young.

But the years and the takers had garnered their toll: the most recent family emergency leaving him stranded on an island of agoraphobia.

He’d just washed the dishes when the doorbell rang.

The wireless security camera bought online amid a bout of paranoia relayed the image of a stranger with a clipboard – practiced smile glued to his face.

Todd could just make out the logo of a phone company on the top sheet.

Another would-be taker.

Sunlight glinted off steak-knives.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

That Holiday We All Supposedly Love

I push in my code: 437. The sound mocking me as I snatch the clipboard off of its peg—the check list of the unforgiving. My job today: revision in the main isle. I garb my lime-green box-cutter. Time to unpack the new merchandise. I fill the cart with cardboard boxes and scoot to the holiday shelves. I slit open the tape and a waft of rich-bitterness hits my nose. I pull out the advertisement holder that holds crimson candy boxes with cartoon dogs saying, “I ruff you! Give me a kiss!” Lurking within, little cones of so called yummy.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey