Sweetest Decline

Autumn evenings hit different. You know the season because of how the air cools your sun-burnt skin, and you crave melting into the breeze. Insect music dances across the same wind as your smile. The scent of decay tantalizes with its promise of the most peaceful hibernation. Surrounded by abundance, knowing there's more than you can ever hope to enjoy.

Smile. You have friends to share it with.

I fall asleep, a big spoon in a drawer with just enough silverware for a single meal. Remember to wash it after every use and one spoon is enough to last a lifetime.

Anytime Anywhere

Dave and Heather sat in cafe and looked at their phones. There was a lot David wanted to say, but the place was crowded and he didn't want to be overheard.

He texted her instead.

I'm sorry.

For what?

Everything.

It's not an apology if you don't acknowledge what you did wrong.

Why'd she have to be so difficult?

I wasn't the one who broke her promise.

Still not an apology.

Heather set her phone on the table and looked out the window. Before the screenlock came on, David noticed she was looking at flight times.

So much for promises.

The Promise

When I enter the library, I take a deep breath. I haven’t been here in months, but I had a promise to keep, so I pushed myself out of bed and here I am.

I walk to the fiction section and scan the row of books. I choose a few of my all-time favorite classics and find a seat near the window, once his favorite spot.

I miss him terribly, but I promised I would continue to come, even though it pains me.

He had said he would always be with me through books.

I can almost hear his voice.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Postcard's Promise

As Harland dug through the ruins, he found a hidden and weathered desk. On it, an old postcard displayed a faded, scenic landscape. Flipping it over, he read delicate handwritten words:

"Dear Wanderer,

May this postcard be your journey's memento, reminding you of wonders witnessed and truths sought. Let it inspire your quest for knowledge and enlightenment. With each step, the world and you transform. Embrace the magic within, letting it guide your path. Uncover the mysteries. Remember, great adventures start unexpectedly.

Safe travels,

A fellow explorer."

Harland cherished the postcard as a symbol of inspiration and continued his exploration.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Giant Oaks

I sighed as my breathing slowed. The sun rose over my head, and I felt the power inside me waking, like the tree in the woods that had grown into giant oaks, covering the forest floor in the summer. I would sit in the shade of those trees until nightfall, waiting for the stars, reaching for the promise of sleep. The light in the sky became a distant memory, and I could almost feel the joy that the moon brought to those born in the middle of winter or during those spring showers that brought new life to the earth.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Cage

The town came to the zoo based on the promise of a special exhibit of animals captured with great difficulty. The audience was truly impressed.

“My god, they are ten times our size.”

“They are bellowing so loud they can be heard ten towns away. The shrieking hurts my ears and might leave me deaf.”

Despite their fear people stuck around, mesmerized by the crazed beasts. They trusted the extra thick bars in the cage.

Their trust was ill-advised. The humans broke out of the cage and stomped the crowd into the ground. Three thousand Xanians died painfully.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Close Memories

It’s Halloween and I’m at my wife’s grave for her anniversary. She died three years ago, and I made a promise that I would be there every year to place a large pumpkin next to her headstone.

Halloween had been Terrie’s favorite holiday. She enlivened the house with carved pumpkins on every table, spooky collectible houses with eerie music and lots of candy for the children.

I missed her, but I kept the memories of her love close.

When I turned to leave, I felt something touch my arm.

I looked back at the grave and the pumpkin was gone.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Afterthought

Suddenly aware that he might at any moment glance down at her waist and thereby notice the steely tip of the long-handled knife that was peeking out of her shoulder bag, not truly obtrusive, but visible enough nonetheless, with its dark, coagulated blood and a few long strands of blond hair clinging stubbornly to the blade, she deftly angled her lithe body so that the sheriff’s green eyes bore rather unmistakably into the depths of her cleavage, swaying and full of promise, beneath the silky crimson blouse she had tossed on in the morning as a now greatly appreciated afterthought.

From Guest Contributor Jody Hart Lehrer

The Path Between The Sky

A road runs from the bare hills until it touches by the river. It dips among the summer sage and beckons leaves to faintly whirl. For those who lightly travel, an aged silence lures a calm desire. The old pine chants along and offers to stitch a tired wish. The sun murmurs warmly as it climbs to the last needle's tip and chatters with so many dewdrops. Rummaging through fading prints, a low sigh rustles to a scattered impression. Here, it etches away brief moments of wonder and whispers a promise to follow when wings stray below to quietly suggest.

From Guest Contributor Kristi Kerico

Kristi is a psychology major at Pikes Peak Community College. She is studying to become a horticultural therapist. She currently works at a bookstore and volunteers at a zoo and nature center. She began writing after enrolling in a creative writing course at PPCC. She enjoys poetry the most, considering it's brief yet complex beauty. She also loves writing with a focus on nature.

The Night's Hope For A Better Tomorrow

Dreams projected on a ceiling from a restless mind. A vision of a better tomorrow plays from the imagination onto the stucco. With pleading hope for happiness to join the rising sun, the reality of sadness can be temporarily cast aside. Muscles relax and the burden lessens with the promise. Eyes close and colors dance a firefly ballet on the back of eyelids. Fantasies and nightmares disturb the slumber but recede with the buzz of an alarm clock. Golden rays of butterscotch pour through the glass and warm the face. I rise, we all rise… with hope in our hearts.

From Guest Contributor Jordan Altman