An Hour Ago

This chipmunk has run up to me twice now. It retreats again and I crouch to tie my shoe. My eyes track my new acquaintance, surrounded by lush pines, miles of mountain-top views, and a deer carcass ransacked by the food chain about ten feet away from me. A ding distracts me from my observations–you texted me. We were meant to go somewhere an hour ago, but an hour ago I was already on this trail. The predators which are surely on this path, brush which camouflages them, and the overlook’s treacherous heights will always be more unwavering than you.

From Guest Contributor Morgan Sanders

Morgan is a student of biology at Pikes Peak State College.

When The Clock Strikes Twelve

It wasn’t a new year; it was the new year. Margo watched the clock tick down to midnight with bated breath. Her hand tightened around the stem of her bubbly champagne flute until her fingers turned red. A fresh start; a new beginning. As the clock struck twelve and the ding sounded the glass stem shattered in her grasp, forcing crystal shards into her palm. Blood ran down her wrist. With a resigned sigh she flopped back on the couch and watched the red drops dripping from her fingers permanently stain the rug. Oh well. There was always next year.From Guest Contributor Madison Randolph

Madison is a reader by day and a writer by night. Her works have appeared in Friday Flash Fiction, The Drabble, Bright Flash Literary Review, Spillwords, The Chamber Magazine as well as 101 Words under the name Ryker Hayes. She can be found on Instagram madisonrandolph17 or Twitter @Madisonr1713

A Stubborn Speck

The elevator doors close with a ding. Alone inside, she hums and checks the mirror. The speck on her cheek looks unsightly, like a coal mine bent forward and kissed her.

She pulls out a tissue from her bag, and dabs at it. No luck. Nagging speck, like someone spit tar on to her face. Two more tissues, nothing.

The skin around it is reddening. Three more tissues, one after another. She’s getting restless as her floor draws near.

The seventh tissue does the trick. Someone from behind was kind enough to hand it to her.

The elevator doors open.

From Guest Contributor, Indu Pillai

Indu is a commercial writer based in Bangalore. Her fiction has appeared in Mash Stories and 50-Word Stories. She delights in all kinds of stories, written and unwritten. Twitter: @InduPillai01