When Life Gives You Lemons

While Burt created a wedding cake, the radio crackled. “Evacuate, citizens!” a voice shouted. “An asteroid will hit us in ninety minutes and could flatten the town!”

“I’ve never let a bride down,” Burt muttered. “However, my notes are unclear on whether to do strawberry or lemon filling.”

The asteroid lowered itself through the clouds, blocking out the sun; its cratered face peered through the bakery’s window.

“Lemon,” it rumbled. “Bride not coming.”

“Okay,” Burt said.

When the cake was finished, it slipped through a sinkhole.

After the dust cleared, parts of the town were destroyed. The bakery remained standing.

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

Feeling Blue

Blue is a breeze blowing wisps of hair across my cheek. Red is juice running down my chin as I bite a sun-ripened strawberry. Green, the scent of freshly cut grass, blades rippling and tickling the soles of my feet. Purple is the fading warmth of a summer’s evening. White, a smooth window pane on an icy winter morning.

I feel these things because I was born deaf, and my vision melted away soon after. I sometimes imagine fleeting specks of color from my first glimpses of life, but those memories exist only in the moments between sleep and waking.

From Guest Contributor Megan Cassidy

Megan is an author and English professor currently teaching at Schenectady County Community College. Her first young adult novel, Always, Jessie will be published by Saguaro Books this spring. Megan's other work has been featured in Pilcrow & Dagger, Wordhaus, and Gilded Serpent Magazine. For free excerpts and deleted scenes of Megan's work, check out her website or follow her on Twitter