In Love I Do Write

“Sorry, Ma’am. Nothing.”

Isabel nodded, dismissing the housekeeper. Tears accompanied her sullen soul.

In earlier times she and Alfred exchanged letters frequently. Physical distance between them, when he left for war, mattered not. Had the passion vanished?

Not for her. How could she forget their tireless walks in the countryside, their invigorating conversations, or his warm smiling eyes? He, the son of her parents’ friends.

The expected letter eventually arrived, as did others following.

Only after Isabel and Alfred had died was their love revealed to the world, in a manuscript—a collection of hundreds of letters penned between them.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

For the prompts Manuscript and Letter.

Captain

The captain’s mother decided to prepare her son for a watery death. She took the boy to the seaside and held his head underwater. The captain screamed and thrashed, for the Mer people mocked him. They said you’re a Man O’ War: a floating bag of gas. But then the captain fell in love with the Mer king. One day when his mother held him under, he made to kiss the king. The king accepted his kiss by filling the boy’s lungs with water. Then he approached the mother and said, “I will be your captain.” “I accept,” she said.

From Guest Contributor Jeremy Nathan Marks

Teeth Of A Dragon

“Isn’t he great?” the mother asked amid clanging cymbals.

She looked down noticing that her toddler was no longer by her side.

The dragon who wiggled towards them, opening and closing its massive jaw, had danced its way into the crowd.

The mother searched frantically, calling out her son’s name. She passed grills barbecuing kebabs and performers playing folk music with pan flutes. In better times she enjoyed the ethnic celebration.

An intercom announcement prompted her to hurry to the admin office. Her child sat silently when she arrived.

“I got scared, Mommy. Did you see the dragon’s big teeth?”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Fireflies

In the distance, flashes of light blinked in and out through the trees. Like lightning just before the storm. And getting closer.

"What are those?"

"They're just fireflies. They can't hurt you."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

Gina held her son tightly. "Hush baby. They can't hurt you."

They huddled together among the trees and watched the lights. She sang to him his favorite lullaby. The same lullaby her Mother had sung to her on the hot summer nights before they came to America.

"Hush baby. No one's going to hurt you."

When the bombs finally reached them, everything was over quickly.

Testimony

When my car flipped in the air, I presumed that was the end, but I was alive, and my wife and daughter were gone.

It’s been many months since the accident, and it felt like yesterday. I wheeled myself into court, paralyzed from the waist down, remembering the day the doctor told me I wouldn’t walk again. I thought, it doesn’t matter, and then I remembered my son, Charlie. I needed to be strong for him, so, I struggled through physical therapy.

The heinous drunk driver was brought before the court and his fate will be awaited by my testimony.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Walk

I must be insane walking the streets at 3 o’clock in the morning, but I need to clear my head and the air helps.

A dog lunges at me from the alley nearly biting my ankle. It growls and leaves. I head toward my apartment since I wouldn’t get any thinking done after that.

I’m about to put the key in the door when a tap on my left shoulder startles me and I jump.

It’s my son Jameson.

“Dad, I want help, I need help.” His beseeching voice says.

I unlock the door and leave it open behind me.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Warmth

Kathy’s headstone was weather beaten. I hadn’t been to the grave site in years and the memory of her death hit me all over again.

“Keith, he’s heading straight toward us!” Kathy screamed and then all went dark.

A drunk driver hit us head on. I was hospitalized for eight months in a coma and my wife died on impact. I was left to take care of our young son by myself.

I leaned close and placed the red roses next to her name on the stone. “I miss you, Kathy.”

A sudden warmth ran up and down my spine.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Perfect Spring Day

Rob stares out the window at two young girls playing jump rope while their mother and grandmother cheer. The girls are chortling and clapping without a care.

The birds swoop overhead, and leaves blow in the light breeze. It’s the perfect spring day.

It becomes too hot by the window, so Rob backs away.

“Hello son. Let’s go outside. The doctor says the fresh air will do you good.”

Rob nods and wheels his chair toward the door. His dad pushes him the rest of the way.

The girls will be jumping rope, while he looks on from his wheelchair.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Not Hurt

At 11:30 p.m., Mother woke and found her son Bin wasn’t in bed. She scurried into the living room and found the siblings watching cartoons.

“I was so worried, my baby. Go to bed with Mom,” Mother said to Bin gently. She then glared at Lan, “Don’t be a bad influence on your brother!”

“But Mom, it is Bin who wanted to watch cartoons. He begged me to stay with him,” Lan tried to explain.

Mother shouted, “You are the elder sister. You are supposed to take good care your brother. Never do it again!”

Lan pretended she wasn’t hurt.

From Guest Contributor Huina Zheng

Huina either coaches her students to write at work or write stories for fun after work.

Endurance

When Henrik asks me to hide his wife and son, I don’t hesitate.

Every day, I bring food and water to the sewer where I’ve hidden them. I feel it’s safer than hiding them in my house when the Nazis show no boundaries in searching homes.

Unfortunately, it’s not the accommodation I hoped for, but Henrik and his family are grateful. The resistance has brought more people into the hiding space and so they are no longer alone.

It saddens me, but I fight along with my comrades for a better life in our country.

And so, we all endure.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher