Island Of Souls

Simon woke up in the sand, waves lapping against his legs. For once his pants weren't soaking wet from urine.

He braced for a hangover to wash over him that never came. After a few moments he struggled to his feet, trying to piece together where he was and how he ended up here. Not the strangest place he's woken up, but he seemed far from a Starbucks. He'd even settle for a 7/11 at this point, but all he saw was the empty beach in either direction.

Maybe running away from his intervention had been a bad idea.

Motherhood At Starbucks

Motherhood at Starbucks.A boy of 3 discusses his day's activities with his mother.While enjoying his cookie.In a moment of grace, he offers his mom a bite of his treasure.His prize for perfection-- His cookie.She accepts knowing that this perfection may not come again.They discuss their plans that are meaningful only to them.I am amazed at the fluidity of their grace and their understandingOf one another.I wonder what our lives would be like if we were so blessed.Except on holy days when angels guided us home, happy, in love.And sacred.

From Guest Contributor Sandy Rochelle

Sandy Rochelle is an award winning and widely published poet, and filmmaker. Her Documentary film Silent Journey is streaming on: http://www.cultureunplugged.com/storyteller. She is the recipient of the prestigious Presidential Literary Award. Publications include: Dissident Voice, Wild Word, Verse Virtual, Indelible, Haiku Universe, Every Day Writer, Poetic Sun, Ekphrastic Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others.

In That Moment

Chuck entered the car in a hurry and drove off, tires screeching. His wife, Hallie, was in surgery and he promised to be there when she awakened. He sipped his Starbucks coffee and wondered when the traffic would let up, cursing and punching the steering wheel.

After an hour, the cars started moving and Chuck sped up determined to make it on time, when his cell rang. He turned and grabbed the phone. In that one moment his eyes were off the road, he swerved and crashed into a guardrail.

Chuck would be at the hospital, but not for Hallie.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Last-Minute Shoppers

“Wrapping paper! Ha, ha!”

Shoppers passed by clutching rolls of it.

“Fancy spending Christmas Eve wrapping presents!” Ian thought, reflecting on how he’d finished his yesterday.

“My God, they’re fighting over chocolates,” he sneered, observing a couple of housewives tugging the ends of a Milk Tray box in Howell’s Department Store.

He resolved to have a latte in Starbucks to fully savour the spectacle before the shops finally closed.

“Chocolates?!...Christ, I forgot the wife’s chocolates!”

Ian rushed out of the café.

“Where the hell can I find some now?” he thought, seeing the doors of Howell’s snap shut.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

The Coffee Wars

The Coffee Wars began in the 21st century, but unlike the other Great Wars, which ended via the exchange of cash settlements or mineral rights, the Coffee Wars dragged on.

John Grimes was the last survivor. Decades after the plantation riots, Grimes was housed in the Starbucks Asylum. He was kept alive through intravenous caffeination that was still technically against the law, but which was rarely enforced outside of government clinics.

It was Grimes' silent presence that allowed Starbucks, his chief adversary, to eventually quell the resistance. Grimes glumly watched, unable to act, or even speak, through the caffeine-induced shaking.

Closure

Dave wanted to see Rebecca one last time. He hated for something so meaningful to be left open-ended.

But what would he do if she refused to see him? If she left for Chicago without giving him any consideration whatsoever, he might do something crazy and drive to Chicago just to say goodbye.

As part of his court-mandated treatment, he discussed his options with his therapist.

"I think it's unhealthy to form such strong attachments to a cashier at Starbucks you've spoken to twice." His therapist always helped put things in perspective.

The next day, Dave was driving to Chicago.

Virtual Insanity

Shibuya Station is nearly empty. The afternoon rain sent all the gamers scrambling for shelter for their mobiles.

I am left to wait virtually alone. The desolation leaves me feeling I am a character in a post-nuclear zombie p2p actioner. Hisamitsu and Starbucks and the latest Bruce Willis movie are the sponsors of my apocalypse. Even my daydreams have become corporatized.

I see her exit the underground. Her eyes never leave her mobile. She walks past, not even noticing the rain.

Her avatar pops onto my screen for a few fleeting seconds.

Our marriage will endure another seven years.