Visitor

When I visited his grave, the grass had not been cut, and the mixed bouquet of flowers someone placed in the ground were wilted. I walked to the office, and the receptionist told me their groundskeeper quit, and they just hired someone new to take his place. She assured me the cemetery would be taken care of in a few days. I’m not a frequent visitor so I wouldn’t know if that’s true.

I removed the dead flowers and replaced them. Then I said a prayer and asked again for forgiveness for my recklessness that put him in the ground.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

A Mere Shell

In the end I ran away, fleeing what I am guilty of. As a young man I committed those crimes, telling myself orders were orders, that we were the justified, dealing out punishments fit for imagined crimes.

Now, older, reflecting on how my past moulded me, I return to the scene of my crimes. German and Jew, I embraced one me and snuffed out the other. Is this survivor guilt? Or am I finally realizing and admitting my evil past?

I wander the compound, begging spectres for a forgiveness that will never come. Are they the ghost, or am I?From Guest Contributor Tim Law

Sailing To America

There was something about the endless sky, gray and somber, and the ship’s surging through the dark swirling waters of the Atlantic, that prompted Macbeth to worry about the past. The witches. The blood. The trouble that followed. Was there a route to forgiveness? People went down on their knees, didn’t they? Could he hire someone to do it for him? He was still royalty, wasn’t he? But the breeze was so soothing, the trouble, so remote. Surely Scotland was a memory best forgotten. Besides, in the distance, he could almost see, shining like a pardon, the Statue of Liberty.

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe

Linda Lowe's stories and poems have appeared in Gone Lawn, Tiny Molecules, Eunoia Review, Misfit Magazine, Six Sentences, and others.

Permission Slips

The night sky was red and the grass was a deep green. Kerrin and Jobe were walking.

“I just wish she would forgive me. I feel awful,” Jobe said.

“You guys have been divorced three years?” Kerrin asked.

“Yeah, I feel terrible when I see her. I shouldn’t have cheated.”

“She may never forgive you,” Kerrin said. She squeezed his hand.

“I know.”

“Do you need permission to forgive yourself?” Kerrin asked.

“I don’t, no.” Jobe smiled and took an old slip from his pocket and trashed it.

“People have trouble forgiving but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

Yellow Rose

She stood in the kitchen, surrounded by packed boxes. The yellow rose lay wilting on the coffee table; a reminder of the stunning events of the past several days. In flower parlance, yellow roses ask for forgiveness. She knew her marriage was in trouble when her husband turned up with a sheepish look on his face and a yellow rose in his gloved hand. Now it wilted on the table, a ridiculously anti-romantic symbol of their once healthy and robust relationship. He had moved in with the dog trainer and she was left feeling as faded as the damned flower.

From Guest Contributor JoAnne Dowd

Forgiveness

She walked along the deserted beach, cold wet sand hard underfoot, leaving her well-formed arch, her heavy heel dug-in tight, her human track. She scanned the choppy grey ocean, a seagull skimming along ready to dive. Looking ahead, an outcropping of massive black boulders stumbled together into a makeshift Henry Moore sculpture. The solid blocks of granite, columnar or reclining, soft-edged or angular, were reminiscent of her mother. The stoic strength, the impermeability, the dense solid weight of judgement. She had framed her adult life accordingly, with a negative imperative: I will not be like my mother.​

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

Concluding Forever

We thought we’d have forever, but forever doesn’t last as long as it once did. One year, seven months, four days since we wed. Your beauty captivated me. Never thinking of yourself, you touched many lives, changed them, helped people achieve their deepest aspirations. You challenged me, forced me to chase my dreams. But what about your dreams, desires? You’ll never reach them now. You were there for me, but I failed you. Forgive me?

I’ll never forget. Never stop chasing. You’ll be with me forever my love, more than just a stone in the ground, part of me.

Goodbye.

From Guest Contributor Joshua Lanham

Some Things Will Always Remain A Mystery

When Bob achieved omniscience in heaven, pretty much all the crazy shit that had never made sense now became clear. But as he sat on a cloud with Baby Jesus, there was still one mystery that confused him.

"You forgive everyone, right?"

"That's right," Baby Jesus said.

"Even those religious fundamentalists who preach intolerance?"

"Yes, even them."

"I guess they're lucky you're a forgiving God."

Baby Jesus giggled. "To tell you the truth, I don't get why they worshiped me in the first place. Why not go in for one of the more vengeful religions that better suited their temperament?"