War

I watched as my buddy exploded into fragments from a grenade. I saw the fear on his face knowing at that moment, he would die. It was chaotic and when I ran for cover, I thought he was behind me, but he stayed to help an injured soldier to safety. Now, both are gone.

I’m in the trench shaken, wishing I were anywhere else but here.

I heard the tanks roaring, and men yelled, guns ready in hand.

My ears rang; head pounded with all sound, until everything became muffled, and my right hand shook uncontrollably.

Then came the explosion.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Bigger

It was just before the bout between Lefty Louie and Bonecrusher Rocco. Both fighters were in their corners. Louie's manager, Al, offered his last words of advice...

“Remember, Louie, the bigger they are...”

Bonecrusher was big all right. Huge head, bull neck, massive right hand, and a 15-0 record, all by knockouts.

“Got it, Al. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

Al added a few more lines of disbelief to his face.

“What'd you mean, Louie?”

“Fall, Al. The bigger they are, the harder...”

“No, Louie, hit. Remember, it's hit. The bigger they are, the harder they hit...”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

The Last Bath

I bathe the cat in the bathroom sink, so light, his little feline spine sharp with the thinning of time—twenty years. Hold him by the belly in the right hand, baby shampoo with the left. More soap for the diaper area. Careful of his eyes, looking so far away these days. Squeeze the water down his tail, his legs, all bones. Towel off, gentle, gentle. Murmur assurances that it’s almost over. Sit down on the couch, hold him in the towel. Is he ok? Movement—a gasp, he’s fine. Then my tear fell in his eye. He didn’t blink.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, Little India, Rat’s Ass Review, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She and her husband Gaurav created Blue Planet Journal, which she edits and writes for. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University, is an assistant professor of English at a community college, and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See more at brook-bhagat.com or reach her on Twitter at @brookbhagat.

Parting Sails

The seas clash between her and the shore. Yer crew lined up on the edge of the beach. Her sails are riddled with holes from cannon fire. Her hull crushed and impaled by other vessels that have crashed beside her. Quite a miracle she can float even now. As yer crew take their final glances, ye walk until the water reaches yer knees as ye recall her the most. Through storms, valleys, and currents. With a staff of flame on yer right hand, ye set her ablaze in a last gaze of glory. She rests in the sea’s foamy waters.

From Guest Contributor Nahum Zewdie

Nahum is a student of general studies in Pikes Peak Community College.

The Reading

The flashing sign blinds Marissa’s eyes. The door says enter, and she pushes it open with a sigh.

“Please sit,” says the woman in flamboyant blue and green gypsy clothes. “I assume you want a reading.”

“Yes, good and bad.”

The woman takes Marissa’s right hand and reads her palm. “I don’t see a future for you. There will be no success or love in your life. You will die tragically and without warning.”

Marissa jolts in her chair. “I’m not up to this. Here’s your money.”

Anxious and distracted, Marissa doesn’t see the car coming. She dies on impact.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Caught At The Bottom

From his vantage point, Josh could see their faces, those who weren’t masked anyway. The zealotry was apparent on both sides.

The blows, unintentional at this point, kept coming. Boots rammed into his hip. Someone stepped on his right hand, the one that had been holding the rainbow sign, and he felt the bones snap. He stopped struggling as everything went numb.

All Josh discerned now were their eyes. He realized they saw nothing outside of their own preconceived notions. They looked at the men and woman across from them with hatred.

And these were the people he agreed with.