Cirque Du Silly

One summer, I went to Circus Camp. As an acrobat, I was overcome by terror, lost my grip on the trapeze, and plunged into the net before my partner could grab my ankles. Animals hated me. The dancing horse tried to bite me, and the performing poodles peed on my shoes. I looked hilarious in clown makeup, but my timing was terrible, and I was trampled while exiting the tiny car. I tried juggling and hit myself in the face with the balls. Fortunately, the camp staff were brilliant photographers; the shots they posted on Instagram made my family proud.

From Guest Contributor R.K. West

The Choice

When the bombs exploded, I veered the plane sideways.

My men yelled we should vacate, but I had to make the destination point.

As the men jumped one by one until I was the only one left, shots hit the fuel tank, and I had no choice.

I said a prayer, left my station and vaulted out into the sky.

In the distance, I heard an explosion and flames filled the air.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I landed safely on solid ground, until footsteps approached, and guns were aimed at my chest.

I landed on enemy territory.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Juiced

Reuben downs a shot of tequila and says to me, “Keep up. We don’t like to drink alone.” I down two, three, four shots and fail to catch up.

Reuben turns to the brunette sitting on the next bar stool. “People claim your fingernails and hair keep growing after you die. You believe that? I don’t.”

“You’re drunk,” she snaps.

Reuben grins at me and says, “When men get embalmed, the juice pumped into them gives them a world-class boner. That’s what I want, a boner that lasts forever.” He downs another tequila, trying to calm his demons and himself.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

Sacrifice And Prayer

John jumped into the trench for cover, and a dead soldier stared blankly into nothingness. John silently prayed, took a deep breath, reloaded his rifled musket and repositioned. He abhorred shooting at his own people, but that was the only way. President Lincoln wanted slaves freed and John believed slavery was inhumane.

John pulled out a picture of his wife and stared at her radiant smile. He said another prayer, kissed his wife’s face, climbed up the trench and fired. Return shots echoed in his ears.

His wife’s photo remained clutched in his hand as he fell to the ground.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Sunset

She's walking home when she sees the most beautiful sunset she's ever seen. Her phone is already in her hand. For some shots she aims low, including both the sunset and the winding tree-lined path that stretches across the park. For others, she aims high, capturing only the yellows, oranges and reds of the evening sky. There is no pleasure in the moment, only later after she arrives at her apartment, after she sits on her bed, after she looks through the photographs, after she decides which she likes best, after she uploads it, after she starts counting the likes.

From Guest Contributor Spencer Chou