Nameless Here Forever

Something in the manner the June sun slants through my bedroom window sears my heart.

It burns through, red-hot, singeing its muscles and sinews but not its memories.

For it was on a blistering day like this that terror, treachery, vengeance and death engulfed.

A whirling hate storm, sowed by unknown faces in unknown places, which ravaged my known.

We could neither resist nor understand these demons who killed without remorse.

Who left us with our dead, the dregs of our lives and nameless here forever.

My homecoming, ten years hence, brings deep summer sadness, which will remain within forever.

From Guest Contributor Chitra Gopalakrishnan

Juiced

Reuben downs a shot of tequila and says to me, “Keep up. We don’t like to drink alone.” I down two, three, four shots and fail to catch up.

Reuben turns to the brunette sitting on the next bar stool. “People claim your fingernails and hair keep growing after you die. You believe that? I don’t.”

“You’re drunk,” she snaps.

Reuben grins at me and says, “When men get embalmed, the juice pumped into them gives them a world-class boner. That’s what I want, a boner that lasts forever.” He downs another tequila, trying to calm his demons and himself.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

The Needle's Tip Is Not Sharp Enough to Cut Me Out

I see the demons you dance with; chanting in your ear, ripping you apart, gnawing upon your flesh—consuming you. Your nightmare has peeled my eyelids open. You say, “I’m a monster that can’t be revived. My carcass is a puppet to the demons that infect my soul: A hollow shell filled with darkness and decay.” I realize the words tangle on your tongue like the English Ivy on the stone walls that trap you inside. I know you’re shackled behind your sapphire orbs that peer upon my face.

I am not scarred...

I am in control,

Of my fate!

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

Deaths In July

On 17th July, Adhakanta’s twins Tompi and Shompi were found hanging from the tamarind tree their forefathers had planted outside Dhemaljote for the demons to rest in. Both had been national-level Kho-Kho players. Mairong Sarkar, their distant uncle, also an ex-KLO turned social worker, supported them as their father's 0.07 decimal land was engulfed by the malicious river Balashon.

The scene ignited Mairong's innermost despair and he took to the jungle again. Their father dead since last July, he untied the dupatta around his daughter’s neck.

Next July, their mother Meera eloped with Kanai, the infamous sand mafia of Balashon.

From Guest Contributor Nabanita Roy

Light

You leapt forward with clear resolve. Left me standing in the dark.

I mull over your departure. Review circumstances. My mind turns somersaults, not being able to comprehend.

It wasn’t me, you once said. Not even us. You tried to resolve battles within you. Past demons colliding with ideals you set for the future. Hope slipping into a void.

I offered you help. You refused.

Into the darkness I stare. Light beams from afar. Tempts me to look into a future I can make my own.

I’ll open the door. Be on my way. Knowing you won’t travel with me.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.