Turnaround Day

Midway through the exam my lead broke. What to do?

The boy across the aisle noticed.

“I brought extras. Take one,” he coaxed, extending an arm towards me.

Why would he offer to help me? I, the lowest achiever of the class; the one all classmates avoided.

Reluctantly I accepted his pencil, resuming my guesses to multiple choice questions.

“Good luck,” the same boy whispered, bending towards me.

I watched him rush to the front of the room to be the first to hand in his exam. He, the smartest student of the class.

The one who gave me hope.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.

Kidney

Because blood had been found in my urine, I was ordered to have my kidneys imaged. After I was adequately undressed, the doctor or technician took a thick wand-like instrument and ran it around my back. I could see what they could see on a small screen. Everything looked fine until a bright orange spot turned up on one of my kidneys. Thoughts of cancer or other possible diseases ran through my head. Would I lose a kidney? The exam was over soon, and I was sent away after being told that the results would be back in ten days.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Let's Stay Focused On The Good News

HUBRIS CONTEST:

Gerald raced home, test in hand, too excited to look both ways as he crossed intersections. There was never any traffic anyway, and this news was too good to wait. He only paused at one point to pick up the books that had scattered on the sidewalk behind him because he'd forgotten to zip closed his backpack.

He sprinted up his driveway and burst through the front door.

"I am the GOAT!!!" He threw the paper towards his mother, who looked up in bewilderment.

"A B+ on your English exam. I'm proud of you. Now what about your math quiz?"

From Guest Contributor Breanne Nyhoff

The Chronicle of Higher Education

What is inside you is going to come out. I think of it as a crime scene. You have brought your dead cat, placing it wrapped in a pink baby blanket on the floor. I feel in the wrong just being there. Before the exam starts, you ask the girl seated behind you for paper, but are given a slice of bread. I can’t explain it. I would need to Google you to find out. At the front of the room, the proctor makes a gun with his thumb and forefinger and then holds it to his temple and fires.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.