A Survivor’s Calling

Mouth agape, eyes widened with fear, I looked on to what my world had been. Everything I lived for was swept up in a distant array of mud, debris and...corpses. Even through my grief, I knew the landslide had chosen me, to avenge everyone's lives that came to an end in this short, devastating moment. This was my calling, which I would live through for the rest of my life, bearing their dreams.

Standing strong, even until this day, I recall this distant memory. With tears beginning to well in my eyes I see hope glimmering from the future.

From Guest Contributor Danielle Simpfendorfer

Trepidation

Landslide. Highway closed. Closest motel, five miles back.

The adjoining restaurant was packed. I sat at a table with a coupleand their three high-spirited children. Rain fogged our window.Someone outdoors fleeted past us.

“Creek flooded road to my cabin,” an elderly gent spoke as we bothexited. “Why are you here?”

I wiped my eyeglasses pretending not to hear. “Can you please walk meto my room.”

He laughed. “Why, you scared?”

“I saw a prowler earlier.”

He obliged.

Next day’s news revealed that a bear had to be tranquilized on thegrounds, taken back into the woods.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Publishedat: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words,Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press),ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.