The Greatest Show

We climbed down from our platforms and out of the ring, inhaling deeply of sawdust and popcorn, sweat and dung. We turned out the lights and broke down the tents, ropes biting into our palms. We watered the elephants and fed the lions; we waved at stragglers and kissed our new lovers goodbye. One last campfire, one last harmonica bray, one last cloud of dust kicked up by our dancing feet. One last paycheck pressed into our hands. No train tomorrow. No makeup, no spangled costumes. We’ll tip our heads back, way back, and spread our arms for the net.

From Guest Contributor Tara Campbell

Tara is a writer, teacher, Kimbilio Fellow, and fiction editor at Barrelhouse. Previous publication credits include SmokeLong Quarterly, Masters Review, Jellyfish Review, Booth, and Strange Horizons. She's the author of a novel, TreeVolution, and three collections: Circe's Bicycle, Midnight at the Organporium, and Political AF: A Rage Collection.

Troubles

Covid-19 has taken a toll on my social life. The quarantine has me cooped up other than grocery shopping or a drive, and I miss the sounds of my friends boisterous laughs when we joke about men while watching romance movies chomping on popcorn.

Reading a novel with my feet up, the same words stare at me. I toss the book aside and pace, when a tapping on the back door distracts my thoughts. I look outside and a black kitten is on the patio meowing.

I forget all my troubles when I step outside and pet this adorable animal.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Star Wars Fan

I bought my movie ticket a week ago, to see Rogue One. Now the day of, a heavy rain storm caused flooding and traffic. I had to make it there. I sat in the car stuck behind honking car horns thinking of last year’s Star Wars film and Princess Leia’s recent death. A tragedy. Okay, the traffic started moving. I had fifteen minutes to get there, park, and buy popcorn.

The parking lot was unusually empty. I found a spot close to the theater. After I ran through puddles, the sign on the door read closed due to inclement weather.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher