Filmgoers

Many winters ago the blizzard buried Negotin in white noise. Snow sealed doors, and the wind was sending SOS signals all over the town. Power lines were lying in the fields, houses went blind and breath turned to frost.

Only the old cinema stood like a lone lighthouse against the storm. Its generator pulsated like a tired heart. The theater was full, but no one spoke. When the movie began, I realized the actors were the audience themselves, levitating across the screen.

Slowly, the faceless crowd turned toward me. They weren’t watching the movie.

They wanted me to stay forever.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

Maple Tree

There was a maple tree on the corner of Ryan's yard as he was growing up. When he was seven, the city ordered it cut down because the branches were interfering with the electrical lines. Ryan cried a lot and convinced his mom to fight. It took many hours of sitting in on city council meetings and gathering signatures for a petition, but eventually the power company relented. The tree was saved.

Now the trees are the only things left standing in their old neighborhood. Once the plant revolution started, Ryan and his mom were spared, but the houses weren't.

Home

As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.

The hurricane damaged houses, leaving them engulfed in water, while downed trees blocked the roads and cars had streamed down the streets into one another. Shelters were provided, but they couldn’t accommodate everyone. They needed help.

The pilot turned in my direction. "Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go.”

I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Close Memories

It’s Halloween and I’m at my wife’s grave for her anniversary. She died three years ago, and I made a promise that I would be there every year to place a large pumpkin next to her headstone.

Halloween had been Terrie’s favorite holiday. She enlivened the house with carved pumpkins on every table, spooky collectible houses with eerie music and lots of candy for the children.

I missed her, but I kept the memories of her love close.

When I turned to leave, I felt something touch my arm.

I looked back at the grave and the pumpkin was gone.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Ontological Question Within A Dream

I know I am asleep. I am floating, cruising through an old neighborhood. I recognize every detail of the houses and the trees. Perhaps I am just exploring the deepest, untouched basement spaces of my memory, where everything is stored? I float by an antique shop. The elderly owner, opening it up, looks at me. Now I muse: am I experiencing astral projection within my dream? I float by a little boy in black: going to a funeral? He is snagged on my floating robes, which are also black. I wonder: is this how one becomes, all unknowing, a witch?

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Caesar

Cheryl lived in Paris, Tuscany and Sligo for 25 years; she earned her doctorate in comparative literature at the Sorbonne and taught literature and phonetics. She now teaches writing at Michigan State University. Last year she published over a hundred poems in the U.S., Germany, India, Bangladesh, Yemen and Zimbabwe, and won third prize in the Singapore Poetry Contest for her poem on global warming. Her chapbook Flatman: Poems of Protest in the Trump Era is now available from Amazon and Goodreads.

My Usual Jog

I stretch my legs inhaling and exhaling. It’s a beautiful abundant sunshiny day, and I’m ready for my jog. Not many people are out and that’s normal nowadays.

Each day I pass the same houses. My favorite is the one with the bright yellow sunflowers along the front walkway. What else do people have to do in the spring, so why not make their yards look nice?

Since jogging, my legs have strengthened and I’m more energetic. I’ve been working from home and cooking more, but I miss the previous world. However, I won’t let Covid-19 take away my jogging.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Gone

Twenty years of marriage, twenty years of building a life together. Buying houses and cars. Now she is gone.

For twenty years, she was my everything. The smile in my morning, the sunshine in my day. But now it is dark and quiet.

One argument led to cruel words. Cruel words led to hurt feelings. Hurt feelings took time to heal, but heal they did. Things returned to normal for us. Life continued for us as a couple. Then it happened.

One episode of indiscretion, it wasn’t such a big deal. Deal breaker, she said. She is never coming back.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

Endless Love

He holds her close to him, the same way he has for over 70 years. She fights him and pulls away, she doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know not being with her. They were born the same day and grew up two houses apart, married once it was legal. He would visit her every day before it became too difficult. Then he moved into a room in the same care facility to be close to her. He still visits every day. He still eats meals with her. She still has no idea who he is. His is an endless love.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

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

Hell's Kitchen

We were the grounds crew at a minor league ballpark in the city. “I was about a hundred feet away. He lifted the gun and just...” Gerry looked away.

“That’s never happened to me,” Harry thought. “What do I say?”

“I ducked for cover.” He wiped his face and squatted to give his knees a break.

“Most of those people in that crowd...They don’t know. They live in the suburbs and they just come in for the game.”

“POP!” The shot came from the houses beyond center field.

“I gotta get outta this city,” Gerry said. “Any way possible.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori