The Broken Rose

Scott retraces the events of that evening to understand what went wrong. Candles were lit. Dinner reservations at Jen's favorite restaurant. A dozen red roses.

The evening now over, all his plans in ruins, trying to lay blame seems besides the point. Telling himself that he was innocent of any wrongdoing doesn't change the fact that not only has his girlfriend of exactly five years walked out on him forever, but has also resulted in his house being destroyed and his car being driven over a cliff.

A single broken rose is all he has left to remember her by.

Motherhood At Starbucks

Motherhood at Starbucks.A boy of 3 discusses his day's activities with his mother.While enjoying his cookie.In a moment of grace, he offers his mom a bite of his treasure.His prize for perfection-- His cookie.She accepts knowing that this perfection may not come again.They discuss their plans that are meaningful only to them.I am amazed at the fluidity of their grace and their understandingOf one another.I wonder what our lives would be like if we were so blessed.Except on holy days when angels guided us home, happy, in love.And sacred.

From Guest Contributor Sandy Rochelle

Sandy Rochelle is an award winning and widely published poet, and filmmaker. Her Documentary film Silent Journey is streaming on: http://www.cultureunplugged.com/storyteller. She is the recipient of the prestigious Presidential Literary Award. Publications include: Dissident Voice, Wild Word, Verse Virtual, Indelible, Haiku Universe, Every Day Writer, Poetic Sun, Ekphrastic Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others.

Key

I rummage through drawers and cabinets before placing everything back. It hits me then. There must be a hidden key somewhere. I look under every piece of furniture and there it is under the desk chair. I scan the room and come across a painting of the Fuhrer that is askew. I remove it from the wall and find a safe. The key fits.

Inside are papers with the Nazi’s plans. I memorize what I can and place the picture and the key back, making haste through the rear entrance without being noticed.

Outside, I breathe a sigh of relief.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

On The Sweet Path

Ice cream? Al declined. It hurt his teeth.

“Good of him to do so,” acknowledged his school’s principal.

There were other reports of the afternoon sightings. About the SUV parked in front of their school. The dark sunglasses leaning out on a balding head. Words offering a sweet treat.

It happened two days in a row. Possibly three. No one paid close attention until bits of news dribbled out, spreading across the community.

Plans were drawn to nab the culprit.

He must’ve known for no longer was he seen.

Another school needed to heed to the call for ice cream.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season. Although she prefers spring.

Plans For Departure

This feels like the worst place one could possibly be – insurrectionists on the front steps, an unkindness of ravens in the yard, a side door that requires a sign explaining how to open it. I’m leaving for. . . I don’t know where. Maybe somewhere bombs would only ever kill the bomb makers. You can come if you wish. I can’t promise there’ll be roads and buildings made of spider silk or that lakes will gently bubble to the dreams of sleeping fish, but light will reach us even a million years after the source of light has gone out.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest poetry collection, Gunmetal Sky, is due in February from Thirty West Publishing,

Senseless Dreams

We’re speeding in Mama’s 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Air. Mama’s talking about new names we’ll concoct. Lives we’ll live.

“It’s a movie,” she says, smile crooked. “Our lives. We can be anyone. Romanovs, if we want. People of privilege.”

I think of him. Proclaiming Mama hysterical, a dreamer too much into writing and other subversive things. He threatened to have her committed. I think of Mama and me packing late at night, holding on to each other.

“It’ll be fine,” Mama says. “He can fuck himself.”

We need plans, not senseless dreams. But she needs to believe. So do I.

“Yes, Mama.”

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.

Reduction

He sat alone.

He watched her scrape the painted letters from the window; watched FINE ARTS CAFE become FINE ART, then FINE and finally FIN.

She took a break.

He couldn’t bear to watch anymore anyway, imagined Painting becoming mere Paint, then Pain; Lessons, Less.

Having finished his coffee, he talked to the café owner about her plans now that she’d finally served up her last cup.

He knew he’d go soon too.

He mentally counted out the other empty storefronts, some of the buildings invisible from where he sat, their windows staring out at a rapidly fading Main Street.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

Calypso: Bright-Eyed Goddess

Unknown amongst them,she sits; awe and wonder.Blazing eyes searching,surrounded, glorious banquet,wondering of the occasion.‘Where is your father?’Calypso forbidden his return!Wanting the strong man herself,locked away, a vaulted cave;awaiting his love.

Prisoner of the Nymph’s love.‘I actually heard he was home!’The gods, it seemed, had sinister plans.Not returned from battle,vanished, Never to be seen again.

‘What is the meaning of this banquet?’Men of Troy had heard of the banishment,their behavior animalistic.Seeking the love of the ‘widow,’leaving the son belittled,doomed to an inglorious future.

From Guest Contributor Melissa Land

Abort

Aliens set a stealth orbit around the planet. They plan to attack and destroy Earth.

First they orbit and scan all commutation signals. After doing this for four Earth days, they met to go over final plans. The meeting includes all officers. The meeting is short and all are in agreement. The minutes are read by a computer, “It is a unanimous decision the plan to destroy Earth will not go forward. The earthlings are doing a very good job on their own.”

The aliens depart. Their spacecraft speeds toward the next destination, the next planet with life to destroy.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall