The Client

Nights are always long in my profession

But tonight was longer than usual, for a client I never expected to had blessed my workplace. My brother saw his little sister lying legs open on the bed. The color of my client changed, from blushing pink to raging red. I searched for a blanket to conceal my bare body, when I noticed his disgust. On what grounds would he question my morals when he himself wanted to avail the services provided by our brothel. So, he dragged his feet right out of the doors he knocked on a few minutes ago.

From Guest Contributor Krishna Sehgal

March's End

She can feel it slowly growing. All in existence is born of thought. It starts slow and deep, pounding, hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Expectations lead to disappointment, which inevitably gives birth to resentment. Everything buried from years past mutated into fertile embryonies, vibrating, taking on a life of their own.

As March's end nears, thoughts of isolation waver. A new world awaits those who are willing to embrace its damp offerings. Fruitful grounds to transplant the seeds vaulted away, protecting them from winter's crystalline grasp. New vessels to transport thoughts. Pollinating all those she will touch.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

When The Heart Aches

The anguish of losing a loved one aches the heart. Henry knew this too well as he walked the cemetery grounds to his wife’s grave, carrying a dozen red roses, her favorite flower.

The scent of spring was in the air. The nearby sparrows chirped without a care, and the squirrels climbed the trees. Henry, too busy making sure the roses were placed perfectly leaning against the stone, didn’t notice.

Henry kissed her name on the stone. “I’ll be back next week, my lovely Serena,” he said and walked away.

A gentle breeze blew a rose petal in the air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

At First Blush

Did it again! He never puts his grubby fingers on the older ones. No, just me and the few new arrivals. If I’m to be honest with myself – we’re less curvy than they. Maybe that’s it? Maybe he thinks we have less grounds for complaint?

Oh! Those two ladies walked right past without saying anything: neither caution nor cursory rebuke. What sort of workplace is this? Here’s me all clean, shiny, and new – arriving full of energy at this library – only to be fondled. Huh, the creep’s calling someone for assistance.

“Excuse me, is this touchscreen supposed to be pink?”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid