A Clouded Sky Is Preferred

What kind of clouds do you like most, I asked, and he said definitely horsetail cirrus and then he said no cloud is like another and that’s when I told him what Judy said about zebras, that no two are the same; that each is as unique as a fingerprint and the young memorize their mother’s pattern to find them in the herd or running along the ancient migration where they hang out with wildebeests because zebras have keen eyes and wildebeests have keen noses and zebras eat long grass and wildebeests eat short. I like tall thunderheads, I said.

From Guest Contributor Jeanie Tomasko

Forever And Ever

“Love from my heart to yours, always,” Christopher’s mother cooed, cradling his young body.

During adolescence their relationship strengthened. Whenever he lost direction, she made time for him.

Into adulthood, the pattern continued. He didn’t hesitate in seeking her wisdom.

As Christopher strolled on the beach near the home they once shared, something at a distance caught his eye. A polished heart-shaped pebble glistened under the streaming sunshine.

He looked to the deep blueness above, thanking his mother for the gift. Feeling her warmth, after she had left life on earth.

Hearts continued to surface the rest of his life.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada.

240th

Baldwin kept careful track of his place in line. It was important that he always know exactly where along the front he was in relation to the enemy. At this moment, he was 240th back. That didn't mean he was going to be the 240th soldier to die. Death was random in war. He'd kept track of enough battles to know that sometimes the 240th person would be shot in the head, and sometimes he'd be injured by shrapnel, and sometimes he'd remain unscathed. There was no pattern, but it still helped him feel in control to do the counting.