Always Everywhere

She's haunting him everywhere he goes.

She's reflected in the mirror when the lights go black. She's in the storm clouds chasing him through the day. She's the hum of the air conditioner cranked ten degrees too cold. She's the wetness soaking through his clothes in the rain.

He doesn't mind. Ghosts lose the power to terrify when you're addicted to the jump scare. She promised him she'd never leave and if nothing else, knowing that she's true to her vow is enough for him to hold on to.

He never would have imagined himself living in a romantic fantasy.

Happy Birthday

It was pouring rain, but I just couldn’t leave on his birthday, Christmas Day. I placed the pine cone wreath against the headstone, the red bells I added for the holiday chiming.

Drenched, I kneeled and said a silent prayer. I teared at the memory of his last birthday, ecstatic after he tore open the wrapping and saw it was golf clubs; his blue eyes lit the room.

I stood for a few more minutes reflecting.

As I touched the tombstone, I felt a shiver up my arm and one of the bells landed by my foot.

“Happy Birthday, Georgie.”

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Manuscript

The rain pelted the window as I typed the last few pages of my manuscript. It was past midnight, and I had been working for hours with a cold cup of coffee on my desk. My agent advised that it would be in my best interest to have it ready by tomorrow morning, my first novel.

Thunder filled the sky, and my dog Bree ran under bed, my concentration never faltering.

As I typed “The End,” a flash of lightning lit the sky, and the electricity went out.

I didn’t have a chance to hit save before the power outage.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Rain

The rain pelted my windshield, and the wipers provided minimal vision. My heart pounded and my hands gripped the steering wheel. I drove at a slow pace and prayed the weather would calm down and hoped the next exit would be soon.

“Lilly, remember how terrible the weather was on our first date. We watched the raindrops from the restaurant window, and you commented on how nature can get angry at any time. That’s when I kissed you for the first time. Your raspberry lip balm tasted so sweet.”

I glanced at the empty seat wishing she were still alive.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Moody

The twilight sky blazed with attitude, warning everyone to speed indoors. The clouds hung ominously low on the horizon, pink, black, orange, and grey clashing together as darkness settled over the town. Rain, lightning, and even tornadoes were all possible tonight, like a sleep-deprived toddler on too much sugar.

Ben turned his collar up and sank his hands into his coat pockets, but otherwise meandered on, his attention entirely concentrated on the argument he was running away from. Rather than confront his wife with what he knew, or thought he knew anyway, he'd just keep walking towards the sun.

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

Wanderlust

The pulse of the city is becoming my own. I woke up with a thrumming headache this morning. The night and the dawn are a patchwork in my aching head. When I walk down the street, steam ripples off the pavement, as intangible as my disintegrating memories. How is my stranger? I wonder. The one from last night’s club. Gone now. He’s returned back to his own life after our brief collision: my drunken frame hung off his neck. His glassy brown gaze still holds me. Power lines cross my heart. My eyes swim in the summer sweat and rain.

From Guest Contributor Siri Harrison

Housekeeper

The rain pelts my umbrella, so I make haste to avoid getting drenched before my housekeeper interview. The last home I cleaned I left because there had been too much friction between the husband and wife. I didn’t want to be in the middle, so I quit. When I came across a post online of a wealthy couple looking for a house cleaner, I applied. It’s in an upscale neighborhood and I have a good feeling.

I ring the doorbell and a man answers. In the distance I hear a loud crash, and his face turns wan.

I walk away.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Wish

I cannot tell you how long it’s been since my yacht sank and I wound up here. I remember the storm and jumping into the life boat, praying that the rain pelting on my head eased and a ship would find me. I must’ve passed out from the cold because when I awakened, my body was muddy, freezing and drenched from the water. Sand and ocean surrounded me, and the boat had floated back into the sea. I was stranded on an island.

I wanted to spend time sailing alone.

Every day I wish I went to a movie instead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Rain

After evensong, her steps are soft on the stairs, and I will denounce these risers with their dips in the middle; it’s been centuries; couldn’t they be repaired now, o ye archbishops? Through the light-coloured thin-glass panes, I can see the skies darkening: how am I supposed to get her home in a storm, my newly blind friend with her damnable tumour? We will be like those lost old farts in the wilderness. My friend shifts her foot towards a stair, seeking. Let the rain fall gently on us, I think; let it fall like a hymn sung in evening.

From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison