Spring Breakers

"I can't believe we're in Florida!" Jenny had been excessively excited the entire drive. All the begging and bargaining had totally been worth it.

"I can't believe your parents let you come." Jackson had laid money she'd be unable to convince her notoriously strict mom to let her spend an entire week unsupervised.

"They trust me."

"That's because you're the most boring girl in all of Michigan." This from Debbie, her equally boring best friend.

"Whatever. You're the one who brought the cards. I'm going alone by the way."

Everyone cheered. This was going to be the best week ever.

The Stranger

There was a man who looked at her deep into her eyes. The gaze was strong. As strong as to peer through her soul. She saw him again and then again. Sometimes at the supermarket, then at the gym, and then at a night walking past by her. She was with another man, but their eyes locked. The guy noticed she was holding the hand of someone else and crossed by him. Their eyes met again. The girl found it pretty strange and in her innocence she told the guy that she often bumps into this stranger and wonders why? From Guest Contributor Preeti Singh

Preeti is a novice cine writer and translator. In her free time she loves to hum and strum her guitar. Also, she is a nature lover who loves birds, plants and the skies.

Resistance

The Nazis arrived in Poland stomping down the street showing their authority. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner, the smell of vegetables wafting in the air, and my father had the radio on listening to the broadcast of the invasion. I sat next to him and stared out the window. For no apparent reason, one of the soldiers kicked a man that stood on the sidewalk with I’m assuming his young daughter. The girl screamed when the man collapsed in a heap. Was this the world now? No one was safe.

The next day I joined the resistance.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Is It A Lie?

Anna walks in and out of alleys to avoid the Gestapo, hiding bread and cheese under her coat to feed the Jewish child she is hiding.

Anna, a Catholic, met Helena in the neighborhood when they were children and have been friends ever since. When news broke that Hitler would be sending the Jewish to camps, Anna immediately took her friend’s daughter into hiding.

She makes it home without incident. Anna hurries upstairs to the attic and pushes the latch open.

Anna takes the girl in her arms and tells her everything will be all right.

Is it a lie?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Justice Delivered

It left a strange taste in her mouth, just as Robert said her first would. But it was successful and could launch her career. A perfect heart shot at 300 yards. There are those that will want to know who made the shot. She left traceable evidence of her sniper nest, so the exact shot distance would be known.

Maybe it should have bothered her, but it didn’t. What’s one less human trafficker in the world? She’d happily trade his life for one less girl trafficked. At least one mother got the justice she wanted and will sleep well tonight.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Raise Your Voice

raise it as if your life depends on it. Your future too.

Scream if needed. Scream even if your voice cracks.

Don’t wait for help, help yourself.

Learn to survive, and remember,

the young neighbor who cries every night,

a distant cousin with a broken arm, a young girl on the bus, with bruised marks.

Remember the scars, the burns, the pain, the losses too.

Read the silence, the untold stories behind every closed door.

Then write a new story, draw a new picture,

paint your toenails red, wear a bindi, go out and shout

Shout until you are heard.

From Guest Contributor Marzia Rahman

Marzia is a Bangladeshi fiction writer and translator. Her writings have appeared in several print and online journals. Her novella-in-flash If Dreams had wings and Houses were built on clouds was longlisted in the Bath Novella in Flash Award Competition in 2022.She is currently working on a novella. She is also a painter.

Apologia Pro Vita Sua

A college-age girl collecting money – no doubt for a worthy cause – rings the doorbell, sending our little white dog into a barking frenzy. Sorry, I tell her after kicking aside the dog to get to the door, but we gave last week. She doesn’t believe me. I can read it in the sudden hardening of her face. If anything, she’s probably thinking it’s necessary sometimes to kill what is in order to bring about what is not. I start to shut the door and then stop and glance up the street. The falling leaves die saying, I want to go.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good's latest poetry book is The Horse Were Beautiful (2022), available from Grey Book Press. Redhawk Publications is publishing his collection, Swimming in Oblivion: New and Selected Poems, later this year.

Anyway JJ Cale Blows

The old man and me were travellin’ light.

“I can’t live here,” he said. Guess I lose, because this girl of mine, is livin’ here too.

“We’ll be leaving in the morning.” But I wanted to stay around, so I asked to call the doctor.

“It’s hard to tell, but I really do think: you got something,” he said. He must have been the sensitive kind when he saw my crying eyes.

“So, can we stay around? Everything will be alright.”

I wish I had not said that, because at this moment we are ridin’ home, to the artificial paradise. From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted

Why Can't I Be Robert Smith?

It’s 10:15 Saturday night, the last day of summer. What a strange day.

I’m cold, I almost feel numb. We’re in your house in Fascination Street and I’m homesick.

All I want is to write a letter to Elise in six different ways, but now it’s Wendy time.

“Trust me,” you said. “Don’t doubt. Have faith. Let’s go to bed in the upstairs room. It will be just like heaven.”

“Its’ not you,” I replied. “This is just a short term effect.”

“So what?”

“Maybe another day.”

It took her seventeen seconds for dressing up.

The perfect girl is gone. From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé SUYS (°1968 - Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and hasn't stopped yet. He usually writes them hatless and barefooted.

The Many Loves Of R. Penniman

Lucille you can Keep A Knockin’ but you can’t come in. You’ve been Slippin’ And Slidin’ with Miss Ann By The Light Of The Silvery Moon and that ain’t right. Now I’m Ready Teddy to Rip It Up with Long Tall Sally because She’s Got It. If she isn’t ready to be my True Fine Mama, maybe Cherry Red will Send Me Some Lovin’. I will look All Around The World to find the Girl That Can’t Help It giving me the Heeby Jeebies. Lawdy Miss Clawdy, can’t find the girl for me. I’m Going Home Tomorrow to Kansas City.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley