Affair

I parked across the street and put the car in park. I had the radio low and gulped a beer, hoping a cop wouldn’t catch me in the act. Fortunately, no cars were in sight.

Deep down I knew something was amiss, so when I found the texts on her phone, I wasn’t surprised. But my best buddy, that’s unforgivable on both sides.

Her car just pulled in. When she reached the porch, he came outside and smiled. They embraced, lips locked together, hands in each other’s hair, before shutting the door.

I knew then what I had to do.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Sunshine

I sat parked with the seat back and the radio playing classical music. The weather forecast called for sunshine, but it began to drizzle. I decided to wait and hoped the rain would pass. I had nowhere else to go, so sticking it out was the logical choice. As the rain subsided, I shut the radio, raised the seat and turned the car off.

I walked to the grave site of my wife and placed a bouquet of daisies on the stone.

“I’m here as promised.”

I knelt and said a silent prayer.

The sky clouded and then it poured.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Flyover State

Sebastian and Miranda scurried out of the shade to their makeshift white board, a section of ground where they'd used branches and whatever detritus was at hand to spell out the word, "HELP!" But the passenger plane was too high and too fast to notice them amid the long expanse of nothingness that constituted their home.

They both sighed and trudged back to their seats. Sebastian took a sip of his coffee while Miranda crunched down on her avocado toast.

"I don't think anyone is coming to save us."

"As long as we have NPR on the radio, we'll survive."

Revenge

When I think of the nights we spent together snuggling and planning the future, it makes my stomach ache. How could he have an affair with my sister who I adored. I remember when I walked into the bedroom, Sarah screeched, and Jeff’s mouth dropped. I nearly trampled his cat Muffin fleeing the room. I could hear their footsteps following me down the stairs and calling my name, but I rushed out the door and into my car peeling down the street. I blasted the radio to distract the images of their naked bodies entwined.

Now, I plot my revenge.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Resistance

The Nazis arrived in Poland stomping down the street showing their authority. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner, the smell of vegetables wafting in the air, and my father had the radio on listening to the broadcast of the invasion. I sat next to him and stared out the window. For no apparent reason, one of the soldiers kicked a man that stood on the sidewalk with I’m assuming his young daughter. The girl screamed when the man collapsed in a heap. Was this the world now? No one was safe.

The next day I joined the resistance.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Open Arms?

When I took the online family DNA test for fun, I didn’t expect to find out I have a sister. After I read the results, I confronted my mom, and she admitted the truth that she gave birth to a daughter before she met and married my dad. My heart ached knowing all these years I could’ve had a sister and didn’t know.

I’m driving on the parkway, the radio blaring. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be at Cassie’s house. The big sister I didn’t grow up with and meeting for the first time.

Will she welcome me with open arms?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

First Time

I have waited for this moment since childhood. Now as an adult in my car with the engine running, I’m thinking of excuses to put my foot to the accelerator.

I remove my sunglasses and shut the radio in the middle of “You are the Wind Beneath My Wings,” and turn the car off. This song brings back memories of my wedding. I wish Melinda were still alive.

As I approach the porch and knock on the door, I hear footsteps stomping down the stairs.

Would it be my mother or father who’d I’d be meeting for the first time?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Former Glory

She sits in a worn wheelchair, slightly swaying to the raspy and sultry melodies playing on the radio behind her. Drunkenly sloshing the dark brown liquid in the bottle she’s nursed throughout the night. Her eyes are as heavy as her heart, drooping with sadness and weeping with grief. Taking another sip, she sighs as the liquid scorches down her throat. She hums along to the music, reminiscing times when she played the same syncopated rhythms on stage. Her knobby and wrinkled fingers dance in the air on her ghost piano while swallowing sobs, thinking about her glorious old memories.

From Guest Contributor Sa'Mya Hall

A Dream

The house is empty, and my bags are packed. I don’t know where I’m going, but I reach for and open the front door anyway, ready for whatever awaits me on the other side. I realize I’ve left the radio on, though, so I turn around and go back to take care of that. While I’m doing this someone or something scurries through the front door. I look and see that it’s my brother’s dog, Oswald. “You can’t be here,” I say. “You’re dead.” Oswald wags his tail and tells me that he’s here to take me to the afterlife.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten

Hawaiian Music

Before the visit to Florida, Jesse told him Elan was Hawaiian instead of black. You would think it shouldn’t matter but that would mean you didn’t know his father. During Katrina, people trying to survive, he couldn’t shut up on the phone of “the animals down there.” His take on Obama was that he was an “affirmative-action baby.”

They hadn’t been in the house fifteen minutes. His father had always loved music, especially classical, so he dropped that in, that Elan played the violin, string quartet.

His father handed Elan his old portable radio.

“Play something for me,” he said.

From Guest Contributor Jon Fain