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."

On The Sweet Path

Ice cream? Al declined. It hurt his teeth.

“Good of him to do so,” acknowledged his school’s principal.

There were other reports of the afternoon sightings. About the SUV parked in front of their school. The dark sunglasses leaning out on a balding head. Words offering a sweet treat.

It happened two days in a row. Possibly three. No one paid close attention until bits of news dribbled out, spreading across the community.

Plans were drawn to nab the culprit.

He must’ve known for no longer was he seen.

Another school needed to heed to the call for ice cream.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

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

Emigration 2.0

The latest Derry crowd had established quite a community inside Grianan Fort, refugees from a Northern Ireland under British administration, ostensibly governed by a partnership of Republican and Unionist parties.

Tory privatisation of social housing, using the ubiquitous Brexit scapegoat, had only been introduced three years before a combination of it and repeal of benefits had forced Jimmy’s family, and thousands like them, across the border.

He pitied those who hadn’t escaped the shutdown..“Lights out!” Someone called from the ramparts.

Pointless warning. One way in and out. Guards knew the drill.

Jimmy reckoned they’d have a week’s grace.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Neglect

Lichen and moss had made their home on the intricately carved headstone while a ravenous community of ivy sought to embrace it.

The man wondered who Charlotte was. All the superficial dedications were there, though the surname was hidden. Who had she been? Was there no family to visit and maintain the plot...or did they believe in allowing it to age as naturally as their progenitor?

He crouched and pulled back some of the thicker growth from the bottom.

“...leaving behind...”

He read the names. One was unusual, like Gran’s.

He brushed ivy aside.

The surname was his own.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

The Tragedy Of The Greens

The green spaces in the village of Turnstell once served the needs of the entire community. Mr. Damhorst grazed his flock of sheep in the fields. Mrs. Graham was able to keep her honeycombs next to the woods. The Goldsmith twins collected berries for their homemade jam.

That was a long time ago. The Greens are no longer green. That's because the sheep attracted wolves, and the berries attracted bears, and the honey, well they brought the bees. Plus a developer chopped down the woods and built a row of high-end condominiums.

But mostly, people just really hated those bees.