All Arise

The entire population heeds the call to arise. Yet to an outside observer no actual call has been made, no clear sign or order to rouse the masses. You might question whether there's a leader at all, for it appears a communal urge has overtaken the congregation and compelled an immediate revolution of activity after weeks of idle rest.

It's a sudden cacophony accompanied by the requisite rush of sound and fury, enough to strike fear into any unfortunates standing in the way of the mass migration.

The flock, once airborne, assumes formation and heads south for its winter home.

The Silken Parasol

Elethea needs rest—there is no peace—looking for a place to hide, she's found it. A good deal of space inside the umbrella, so she lay there with her face turned up towards the light. She cannot help but dream as she admires the firefly-lit lantern from the lamppost on the corner. Above all others, it is virtuous in golden light. Down, down, down into the darkness of the silken parasol. So gently it goes as she settles in her bitter bed. Several people walk by, uninterested in her. None of them bother to look in through the silk.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

It’s Not What It Seems

Mike, feverish, tossed in bed. Head aching and muscles tense, he dreamed of the beach, the hot sun beating on his face, when a voice awakened him.

“Babe, how are you feeling,” asked his wife Liz.

“My body feels like a truck hit it.”

“You heard what the doctor said. You have the flu. Rest, Tylenol and fluids is what he prescribed.”

“Yeah, well, the flu stinks and I feel like it’s more than the flu.”

“Stop being so dramatic. I’ll make you some homemade chicken soup. That should help.”

Mike laid back, closed his eyes, and never dreamed again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher