Meat Monster

The fleshy carcass emerges from the oven with ill intent in its heart. What was once a peaceful, feeling, sentient creature is now sliced and glazed in a glass casserole dish. The gluttonous desire of the would-be cannibals turns to terror upon seeing the monster they have crafted. The violent nature of their death at the hands of their once victim will pale in comparison to the guilt that will weigh down their souls as they pass on to whatever eternity they might have waiting for them on the other side.

At least that's how a vegan imagines it.

First Thanksgiving

The turkey is in the oven, and I breathe in the flavor. The table is set, and the apple pie is cooling on the counter; the sweet smell makes me want to eat a piece before the family arrives.

This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve hosted since Brad’s passing, and this had been his favorite holiday. He’d always sneak a taste of the raisin stuffing I’d make special for him before anyone would arrive.

I’m sitting with my feet up sipping white wine, savoring the flavor when the doorbell rings.

I take a deep breath and head to the door.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Limits

This can only last so long. There’s stuff I have to do. I gotta catch up on work and go for a run still today. I have papers due by midnight and I just put a pizza in the oven. I don’t have time for this. My friend keeps texting me “get on the game.” This can only last so long. I’m organizing due dates, scheduling movie nights with friends and stuttering replies to my mother. This can only last so long. My phone lights up with her face again, but like this poem love can only last so long.

From Guest Contributor Anonymous

I’d prefer to remain anonymous however I’d like to say a little about myself. I am not a writer but a teenage kid trying to graduate. I enjoy thinking deeply and taking the chance to put my thoughts on a page in a creative writing class is nice.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, a time to spend with family. The turkey is in the oven filled with my famous bread stuffing, the pumpkin pie is cooling, and the vegetables are ready to go.

I sip wine and watch the parade waiting for my company. It’s half past 4 o’clock. I told everyone to be here over an hour ago for anti-pasta.

My cell phone rings.

“Hey, Myra, sorry, but we all came down with the stomach flu. We’re not going to make it this year. Hopefully, we’ll see you at Christmas.”

I pack up my dinner and take it to a shelter.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Christmas Surprises

Kristy lights the Christmas tree, the glass ornaments glistening in the room. The freshly lit candle gives a warm aroma and the fireplace crackles. They tried for two years to conceive and today she received the wonderful news from the doctor.

Dinner is in the oven, and Kristy is wearing her best red sleeveless dress for the occasion. She sits near the fireplace and listens to the flickering flames, the sound soothing her nervous excitement.

She hears the key in the door and runs to the kitchen.

Cuddled in her husband’s arms is a tiny sleeping puppy.

Another Christmas surprise.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher