What Lies Ahead

The explosions are closer, and my children are silent, staring wide-eyed out the window, watching people scrambling and screaming at the bombs up ahead. I would stay inside the comfort of my own home, but it is just as dangerous as the outside world. We have no choice; we must leave now.

“Children, come quickly.”

I take hold of Hannah and Erik’s hand and hurry down the steps, tripping and nearly falling taking my kids with me, but I steady myself and continue going.

The streets are crowded, and I don’t look back.

I stay focused on what lies ahead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Duck And Cover

What sounds implausible in most languages, a flock of winged skulls hovering on the wind, happens three or four times before I admit, yes, this is real. I hurl stones at the skulls and jeer when they fly off in all directions. “Are you kidding me?” a man hurrying past says. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?” I do, but it’s not like we have much choice. Troops have draped public buildings in protective netting. The police are going around with guns drawn. Meanwhile, school kids have been taught to hide under their desks, you know, just in case.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest poetry collections are I'm Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submissions Press.

No More Grant Wood

Francis stared gawping at the bleak picture of a white house on a twilight prairie for at least a couple of minutes before breathing. Hattie linked arms with him and pressed close.

“Well, what do you think?”

Francis sighed a wordless soliloquy.

“Isn’t it wonderful? Look at the shading, the perspective, the detail.”

“I just finished that wallpapering.”

“Soot from the aromatic candles and sewing chalk.”

Francis frowned.

“All dangerous hobby stuff is locked away. Candles...top shelf.”

Francis confirmed the press was locked and tight against the wall before addressing his two-year old son.

“Grant, you’re one creepy-ass kid.”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Becoming

Mrs. Hoover knelt in front of me, a gesture reserved for the quietest of her preschool students.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” she repeated.

I knew what I would become, but it had nothing to do with wanting or wishing. My fate felt solid, and it vied for my attention.

I tried to ignore the itch.

Even at a young age I knew that it would be dangerous to provide details.

“It doesn’t matter what I want to be, only what I am becoming,” I recited, the scales on my ankle yearning to be scratched.

From Guest Contributor Sarah Vernetti

I've Changed My Mind

The chair he was standing on kept wobbling as he tried to maintain his balance it was difficult but so far he was okay. He thought about his wife leaving him taking the kids one rainy day. His job as a salesman kept him on the road but he missed them and was always happy to walk through that front door until she left.. Damned he almost fell there this chair is dangerous. He thought about how they would not know he’d changed his mind if only he could get the damn rope around his neck untied lord forgive me!

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie