Haunting Silence

“If Sam took a hearing test today, she’d fail it in the left ear, probably both.” The doctor points to diagrams, talks about adenoids and semi-clear liquid the color and consistency of honey.

Since January, I’ve watched Samantha’s world get smaller. She laboriously mastered “DaDa” and nothing more.

The doctor and my wife talk about tubes and advances in the technology of tubes.

I’m haunted by an image I haven’t seen yet—Sam unconscious, on a white hospital sheet awaiting surgery. I see this when I check on her.

In her crib, the sheets are pink, stuffed animals all around.From Guest Contributor Shane Borrowman

The Whimsical Sun

It always rained where I lived, and the sun never showed its face. January to December: an encore of relentless grey days.

Sometimes during the summer break, when the gray became unbearable, my mother allowed me a night’s stay at my best friend's house next door.

There at her place, we would play late into the night and there was always an abundance of hot chocolate and stories to go around. Late mornings, while we were still in bed, her father used to roll up the clacking blinds, and tiny motes of dust danced in the sun, just like magic.

From Guest Contributor E. Rhyme

Christmas Morning

Ben watches the kids open their presents. Sharon's smile is frozen in place. His too. It's like a hard layer of snow has settled over everyone, precluding self reflection.

He remembers the frenetic joy that would build as his presents got bigger, even as they became fewer. After the last one, a shameful disappointment set in, a feeling he refused to acknowledge even to himself.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He slinks to the bathroom to read the texts in solitude. Sharon already suspects.

He uses the holidays as an excuse not to say anything. Let's wait until January.

My Constant Inconstant

It is hard to swallow that the sun always beams on someone, when she ignores shining on me. The sun parks behind the clouds on sullen January mornings, knowing, full well, the snow would be whiter and the air, warmer, if it was ambitious enough to burn through molten lead skies.

Wallowing in darkness, with only a feeble moon, I am not the least bit rapturous to know the sun blazes in Australia. Cosmic, coquettish peek-a-boos of partly cloudy days throw me into a dark mood but, in my codependency, I am happy that my constant inconstant keeps coming around.

From Guest Contributor Tim Philippart

News: January Is Genre Month

Happy new year!

The month of January has officially been dubbed Genre Month. Each story this month will fall into a specific genre, whether it's a western, a mystery, a romantic comedy, or James Joyce.

If you have any suggestions for genres you would like to see me tackle, let me know. Or perhaps you have your own 100 word genre piece you'd like to submit. I encourage you all to join in the 100 word fun.