Final Goodbyes

As I held Josh’s hand, looked at his face, eyes shut, tubes in his nose and throat, I teared trying to hold back my emotions from a full-blown cry. It had been several months, and the doctors tried everything, but he remained unresponsive. Every day I prayed for a miracle, but deep within, I knew there wasn’t one. So, I continued to speak and visit him often.

Today he’s being taken off the machines, and now it’s time for final goodbyes.

I watched his chest move slowly up and down until his final breath.

A cold shiver.

He was gone.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Die A Little Death

I'd told everyone I knew what I was doing. A real pro. So when the sound system had a connection problem and no one could hear the introductory speaker, my heart dropped instantly. Not because of the mishap. I could talk my way out of a mishap.

Rather, I had no idea what might be wrong. My boss was going to kill me if I didn't get this fixed immediately.

I frantically tested every possible combination of cable and jack hoping for a miracle.

At least the electric shock that killed me happened quickly enough I never felt a thing.

The Pyramids

The new neighbors were installing an elevator in the three-story home on the corner. As soon as it was finished, they handed out tickets like we were going for a ride. When the doors opened, we stepped out into a blistering afternoon, where men were struggling with giant blocks of stone. Were they busy creating one of the ancient wonders of the world? It looked like we might be witnessing a miracle, but the air was stifling, thousands of years old. Wasn’t it time to go home and relax? Kick off our shoes, call an end to this crazy day?

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe

Alive

Guns roared and bullets skyrocketed past my head. I ducked and took deep breaths. The man next to me bled out. There wasn’t anything I could do.

“Retreat,” the lieutenant yelled.

Retreat where, I wondered? I reloaded my weapon and aimed at anything coming toward me.

It was chaotic. Men screaming, bodies strewn everywhere. If I got out alive it would be a miracle.

Something hit me from behind. I looked and my stomach bled deep red. I crumpled to the ground, then everything went black.

When I awakened, I was on a stretcher in a helicopter.

I made it.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Floating

On the way to our waterhole, I noticed something hanging from my ballcap. Repeated brushing did not get rid of what I had thought was a spider on a thread. Checked eyebrows and eyelash – no. Eventually had to accept it was in my eye. Call to doctor sent me quickly to an ophthalmologist. I got my first floater but was relieved to find out that I didn’t have anything more serious wrong with my eye. I thought that it would dissolve by itself or there was a miracle laser that could blast it, but no. We’ve learned to live together.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

The Savior

Mary held baby Jesus in her arms, coddling him from danger as Joseph watched. He was tiny and quiet, sleeping peacefully. Joseph touched Mary’s shoulder gently and she smiled. The animals surrounded them and watched as the family sat contentedly in joyful wonderment staring at the small gift. Mary, exhausted, stayed awake afraid to leave her newborn son out of her sight, but Joseph took him from her arms, and she laid back and fell into a deep sleep.

Joseph gazed at his son in awe, the miracle God granted them.

The Savior, Christ, who would sacrifice himself for others.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Assembly Required

His parents were poorly assembled themselves. Throw meth and booze into it, and no wonder he grew into a discombobulated mess.

Those who tried to help fled after one too many black eyes from his spazzed-out fists. Well-meaning therapists nodded blankly as he sobbed.

One part worked, though: his left pinkie.

Undoing himself was no walk in the park; piecing himself together was the challenge of a lifetime.

Through trial and error, he bravely persevered.

And one day, like a miracle, all his parts beautifully aligned—with only an occasional faint clicking sound to remind him how far he’d come.

From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson

Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared in Entropy Squared, 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida. Sometimes, she can be found here.

Plastic Jesus In An Upright Tub

Me and Dale chuck rocks at it. Before school, while we wait for the bus on Highway 62 and after school or on Sundays. It's not all we do. We sit and talk about which girl at school we'd most like to bang. I'm more of an ass man. Dale really likes big boobs and has lots of ideas about what to do with them. Dale has a .22 rifle he shoots stuff with. I tried to get him to shoot Plastic Jesus but he said the bullet might ricochet and kill us. That would be a miracle, I said.

From Guest Contributor John Riley

John is the founder and publisher of Morgan Reynolds, an educational publishing company. He has written over forty books of nonfiction for secondary level students. His fiction and poetry have been published in Smokelong Quarterly, Connotation Press, St. Anne's Review, The Dead Mule, and other many other journals both online and in print.

Parting Sails

The seas clash between her and the shore. Yer crew lined up on the edge of the beach. Her sails are riddled with holes from cannon fire. Her hull crushed and impaled by other vessels that have crashed beside her. Quite a miracle she can float even now. As yer crew take their final glances, ye walk until the water reaches yer knees as ye recall her the most. Through storms, valleys, and currents. With a staff of flame on yer right hand, ye set her ablaze in a last gaze of glory. She rests in the sea’s foamy waters.

From Guest Contributor Nahum Zewdie

Nahum is a student of general studies in Pikes Peak Community College.

Midnight

Nancy Botkin loves midnight. She stands on the porch, wind whispering. She watches moon drifting. Luminous, motherly, never leaving. A new day awakens. Possibilities rise.

She imagines a father who doesn’t burn her stories. Crinkling creation. Flames consuming.

A father who doesn’t demand her to clean. Buy booze.

She conjures leaving. Like Mama, selfish, enviable. Going wherever whims call.

Nancy can’t imagine the shape of winning. What a miracle truly feels like.

Dad always emerges, demands she get inside. She slinks in, weary, unable to find words. Leave me alone.

She hides pieces of dreams, waits for the next night.

From Guest Contributor Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri

Mir-Yashar is a graduate of Colorado State's MFA program in fiction. The recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train, he has also had work nominated for The Best Small Fictions. His work has been published or is forthcoming in journals such as 50 Word Story, Molecule Lit Mag, The Write City Magazine, and Agony Opera. He lives in Garden Valley, Idaho.