A Funeral Of Crows

The crows gather from miles around, blanketing the sky in a murderous patchwork of feathers and claws. The cacophony sends shivers in every direction, and the people wonder what calamity is portended. Something primeval is at work.

Lena watches from the balcony, wondering why the grownups are so frightened. Can't they see the crows are simply giving voice to their sadness, just like Daddy does when he's had too much to drink? Perhaps grown-ups run out of pity when they reach a certain age. They've learned their emotions are only worth sharing when you get something you want in return.

Road Trip

The scale of the world is different here. Distances become impossible, the sky so expansive the Earth no longer fills it, the fence posts that line the highway fly by until they blur into a constant.

Yet I can't drive fast enough to forget about you.

Time used to be fleeting, elusive. Now it's all become relative, stretched out in every direction, empty of all matter and meaning. If I can just reach the end, I might find myself back where I started. Back by your side.

But no matter how long I keep driving, I never touch the horizon.

Home

As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.

The hurricane damaged houses, leaving them engulfed in water, while downed trees blocked the roads and cars had streamed down the streets into one another. Shelters were provided, but they couldn’t accommodate everyone. They needed help.

The pilot turned in my direction. "Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go.”

I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Twilight Palace

Sydney looked at the atlas. There was no denying he was lost, to the point where he couldn't even be sure he was using the right map anymore. His phone had lost service hours ago.

A flash of reflected light caught his attention up ahead: some sort of structure spotted through the trees. He hurried forward hoping they'd have good WiFi.

As Sydney entered the clearing, a massive palace stood before him, with intricately carved roofs, marble fountains, and gold latticework. A white-robed fellow standing in the entrance smiled in his direction.

This looked nothing like the photos on Airbnb.

Next For Mel

“Choose.”

“What?” Mel was confused. It was 3 AM. Just moments before, he'd been pleasantly dreaming.

“You don't know what ‘choose’ means?”

“Huh?”

“CHOOSE, MEL!”

The irritated voice seemed to come from every direction, as though from out of a whirlwind.

“AND MAKE IT SOMETHING INANIMATE.”

This was it.

“TIME'S UP.”

Mel's life – if it could be called that – was over.

The angel had others to visit that Thursday and more important places to go.

“Couldn't I be a dog, or a goldfish?”

“REINCARNATION'S MAINLY INTO LIFELESS OBJECTS, MEL.”

People don't realize.

“Like...into an old basketball?”

“SO BE IT!”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Island Of Souls

Simon woke up in the sand, waves lapping against his legs. For once his pants weren't soaking wet from urine.

He braced for a hangover to wash over him that never came. After a few moments he struggled to his feet, trying to piece together where he was and how he ended up here. Not the strangest place he's woken up, but he seemed far from a Starbucks. He'd even settle for a 7/11 at this point, but all he saw was the empty beach in either direction.

Maybe running away from his intervention had been a bad idea.

Departure

Stella huddled on the dock with her family, clasping hands with cherished loved ones. She tried relinquishing her ticket, proclaiming she'd rather stay behind, but they pushed her towards the boarding platform without entertaining such foolishness.

Through it all, she avoided looking in Mark's direction. His tear-stained eyes would wreck her. She was determined to wait until the last possible moment.

When there were no more moments, her family backed away, allowing the couple privacy among the sea of people. Nobody heard their whispers.

And then Stella boarded the starship, one of the lucky few afforded a chance of survival.

A Deadly Metaphor

Chester tosses rocks over the cliff, ruminating over whether to respond. Angelica expects tacit agreement with all her decisions, only consulting him on the timing and execution, never the overall direction. This makes sense as a way to run a boardroom, but not a marriage.

Even this vacation, celebrating their anniversary, was her concoction. Sure, the views are spectacular, but she knows he's no fan of hiking. That's most likely her secret reason for this destination. He tosses another pebble, watching it careen out of sight.

At the bottom of the gorge, three fresh bodies lay buried beneath Chester's avalanche.

Forever And Ever

“Love from my heart to yours, always,” Christopher’s mother cooed, cradling his young body.

During adolescence their relationship strengthened. Whenever he lost direction, she made time for him.

Into adulthood, the pattern continued. He didn’t hesitate in seeking her wisdom.

As Christopher strolled on the beach near the home they once shared, something at a distance caught his eye. A polished heart-shaped pebble glistened under the streaming sunshine.

He looked to the deep blueness above, thanking his mother for the gift. Feeling her warmth, after she had left life on earth.

Hearts continued to surface the rest of his life.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada.

Helicopter Parenting

HUBRIS CONTEST:

Malcolm was the victim of helicopter parenting. Literally. He didn't drive to school, he flew. His mother and father, both victims of neglect and recrimination growing up, had overachieved as adults so that they could protect their own child from such abuses. This meant sheltering Malcolm from all criticisms, never allowing him to fail or even fall short in anything he did.

When he inherited the family business, he was both horribly unqualified to run a company and incapable of conceiving of the possibility of failure. Thanks however to his tremendous hubris, the company continued to thrive under his direction.

From Guest Contributor Mindy Storr