Mother Bird

I dreamt my mother’s voice became a flood in the hallway, walls bowing to her words. I held a paper bird to shield myself, and it tore in my hands, scattering wings across the shallow floors. Waves of her lullabies chased me through rooms that stretched into the sky, where I ran barefoot over glass clouds, each step echoing familiar fear. When the storm softened, I found a small window of light, where I could breathe without drowning. I reached out, and it grew until it swallowed the echoes, leaving only the warmth of my own hand on my chest.

From Guest Contributor Taylor Brann

Taylor studies sociology at Pikes Peak State College and writes poetry that traces the landscapes of memory, family, and the human heart.

The Ascent

The door heaves open. Light floods me while darkness retreats inside me. The guards shove me outside my cell. On the stairs, my heart beats like a war drum. One step. Two. Many more. While my chains gently clink. At the summit, I look down and the people cheer. I see their mouths moving but I can’t hear a sound. All I hear is my panicked breath. As they take off my chains, the darkness escapes. I feel so light that I lose the ground under my feet. I smile, in the twenty-five meters that separate me from the abyss.

From Guest Contributor Davide Risso

Davide grew up in Italy, but his itchy feet led him to live in Ireland, Germany, the United States, and travel around the globe. Scientist by training, writer by passion, rock climber by vocation, his fiction has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, RumbleFish Press, Literary Yard, and Cranked Anvil among others.

Two Ottos

By the time he awoke that Saturday morning, Otto was exhausted. It was another night of running dreams – of being on a treadmill, getting no place fast. And, then, of the treadmill ratcheted up to greater and greater inclines.

How much more could he take?

Painfully, step after step, he stumbled into the kitchen. Were his feet blistered?

There, in the cage on the counter, was Little Otto, his hamster.

And on the ridiculous hamster wheel.

Little Otto's legs moved faster and faster.

"Stop it."

But Little Otto only sped up.

"At least wipe that damned smirk off your face."

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

The Lie

I hung up the phone and ten minutes later the doorbell rang. I peeked through the blinds, and it was James. I'd told him I didn’t want to see him anymore and he was on the stoop, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He lied to me, and flowers wouldn’t make it better.

My head ached and I was exhausted from stress. I looked out again and he was sitting on the step now. Good, let him wait, I thought.

I shut the lights, went upstairs, and made myself a hot bath. Soon after, I heard his car screech away.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Devastation

Jack and Angela surveyed the scene with racing hearts. What they'd just witnessed was pure devastation, as insatiable leviathans sucked flesh from bone, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake.

Jack and Angela felt lucky to have survived, as if one false step might have left them vulnerable to the same fate. Like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, had they tried to intervene, they too might have been stripped to the bone.

"I guess I'll start cleaning up," said Jack. "I'll wash if you dry."

Angela followed into the kitchen, lamenting she'd ever agreed to IVF.

The Postcard's Promise

As Harland dug through the ruins, he found a hidden and weathered desk. On it, an old postcard displayed a faded, scenic landscape. Flipping it over, he read delicate handwritten words:

"Dear Wanderer,

May this postcard be your journey's memento, reminding you of wonders witnessed and truths sought. Let it inspire your quest for knowledge and enlightenment. With each step, the world and you transform. Embrace the magic within, letting it guide your path. Uncover the mysteries. Remember, great adventures start unexpectedly.

Safe travels,

A fellow explorer."

Harland cherished the postcard as a symbol of inspiration and continued his exploration.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Victory

The air is ominous, and lightning brightens the sky. I hold onto the mountain with both hands. I’m an avid climber, but the weather forecast is wrong. The sky is not abundant sunshine.

With each step I take, I use all my energy to endure and sustain my worries. All I need to do is take a deep breath.

The rain is heavy, and I feel the weight of it baring down. Just a few more steps. I can do this.

I reach the peak and use all my strength to pull myself up.

I wave my hands in victory.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Seasons

I face the storm as hail pelts my already-weathered brow, reminding me of the life I once lived, traveling at a hundred miles an hour with my soul on fire. My eyes closed in anticipation of the impending crash.

As spring approaches, the mourning of winter's end has begun. In summer, I stand alone naked, allowing the burn to continue unabated.

Spotting my image in the water, washed in its divine glow, my eyes meet my reflection, and we both take a step backward.

The epitome of life and death, or a reminder of the most graceful and majestic journey?

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

One Step

On the borders of this serene land lay a dark shadow formed from a massive structure built on the ruins of another once-great civilization. It often feels like an ominous storm cloud in an otherwise starry sky.

The people of this land continue to work on the tower in the hope of one day reaching the heavens. To be reunited with their ancestors dancing within constellations.

On this glorious night, as the sun sets, dark clouds dissipate; the moon rises on the horizon, filling the entire night sky with dangerous possibilities as they come one step closer to the stars.From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

First Step

My head rotates like the Earth around the sun, except at excessive speed.

It’s difficult to go outside, being afraid of germs and diseases, and wearing a mask does nothing to assure me. I went from going out when necessary to ordering what I need online. My therapist keeps saying I need to take it one day at a time, so today I’m taking my first step.

I place my hand on the front doorknob and breathe. It slowly creaks open.

As I walk onto my front porch, I remember what it’s like to feel the air against my face.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher