Addiction

Juliana knew it was psychological. But the distress of withdrawal was real.

Her travel wanderlust was more than an indulgence. It was a craving deep in her cells. Journeys broke the shackles of the mundane and had become the embodiment of her independence.

Her last fix was fifty days ago. She kept distracted with work and avocation diversions. Yet, her mind would drift to the need, and normally steady hands would tremble.

When the seductive siren called, Juliana’s immobility became a shrinking coffin. Claustrophobic and suffocating.

As the taxi dropped her at the airport, she was able to breath. Freedom.

From Guest Contributors A.L. Gabriella and Billy Ray

Whimsy

The statue of young Buddha had been an exemplar of serenity when first placed under the tree. Time had passed. Wars had come and gone. Nutrients and sun had been converted into growth by the woody plant’s armoury of respiration and generative processes.

Aashi grinned widely at her discovery. The base of the tree had grown around and in front of the old idol, seemingly intent on squeezing it silly.

She looked closer. Through some trick of lichen growth, the once droopy eyelids and superior smile had been transformed into an expression of squashed distress.

Her tinkling laughter wasn’t malicious.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid