Signs

“Look for shiny pennies, rainbows, Monarch butterflies, they’re all signs she’s trying to connect with you,” my friend Jason tried to cheer me.

“Mom hated butterflies. They made her sneeze.”

Jason shrugged. “All the more reason she’ll come back as one. Karma.”

“What do I say to her? In two weeks you’ll die and I’ll feel godawful losing you all over again?”

“You’ll know what to say,” Jason smiled.

So when my mother alighted on my nose while I sat in her garden, I pinched her buttery wings and wiped my hands on my pants. “Shouldn’t have come back, Mom.”From Guest Contributor Marc Littman

In The Dark

“Sit down!” someone yelled.

“I need to find out what happened,” I yelled back.

“We were told to wait,” a woman insisted.

The stage went dark. My mind revisited twirling silks, accelerating swings.

“Pity she fell. A beautiful performer,” the man next to me said.

“She wanted to be a aerial trapeze artist since turning twelve,” I replied.

“Difficult to replace,” he added. “She was so talented.”

“Why in the past?”

“Because,” he said while checking the Internet, “It appears she may have...”

“It’s my only child,” I sobbed, rising to walk away from my seat.

No one stopped me.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.