I See You

If we could only look deeply into the eyes of strangers, we’d see not a stranger at all, but a piece of ourselves.

As I stand in line, I see a man pull his shirt over a large belly. Beside him, a teenager glances anxiously at passing faces.

If people knew, they’d feel more compassion for one another. Indeed, they’d offer kindness even as they are shown anger.

The knowing inside me is too big. I’m surrounded by the noise and lights of the world, seemingly unchanged from before. My heart aches. I see you, but do you see me?

From Guest Contributor Caitlyn Palmer

Undetected

“We’re detectives,” said the teenager in Greta’s doorway. “Like Nancy Drew. But guys.”

“And brothers!” the other boy added.

Greta studied them. “So...more like...the Hardy Boys?”

“Who?” the Hardly-there Boys asked together.

Greta smirked. “Never mind.”

“We’re tracking a thief,” explained the first boy. “He’s targeting Culpepper Lane!”

Greta gasped.

“Vases, television, artwork.” The second boy ticked off his fingers. “Even Mrs. Giovanni’s tiara! We’re questioning everyone. May we come inside?”

“Certainly,” Greta said. “I was just setting up my new TV.” She ushered them into her immaculate foyer, a sea of diamonds sparkling unnoticed atop her head.

From Guest Contributor John Adams

John (he/him/his) lives near Kansas City, where he produces comedy shows and writes about teenage detectives, robo-butlers, and cursed cowboys. Twitter: @JohnAmusesNoOne.

Dungeons Without Dragons

Old castles and dungeons. Wizards and dragons. Evil Orcs and bewitching princesses. And he above all, The Mighty Knight, the warrior chosen to save the world from eternal doom.

One flash of lucid light and here he is again, imprisoned in his own dungeon, in his dusty boy's room, remembering days playing tabletop fantasy games with friends and reading Tolkien, back in the time when he was just a teenager. Now he feels so old, lonely, and helpless. Not even a witch by his side, no magic spells to pay alimony, no more ideals worth fighting for.

Nothing but memories.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

The Untimely Demise Of A Teenage Rebellion

Heather relaxed into the sofa. The best word to describe her sessions with Dr. Goldstein was therapeutic. She especially took pleasure in the way her stories shocked the old man.

Today, she was relating a particularly scandalous dream, one involving a milkman and a silk robe.

"I must interrupt, Heather. Isn't a milkman rather anachronistic for a teenager's dream?"

Heather tried piecing together an explanation that involved vintage reruns, but it eventually unraveled. Still, the umbrage her therapist took when he learned Heather had been sharing entries from her mother's diary all along made up for her deception's untimely demise.

A Loving Husband And Father

He used to be a loving husband and father, a fact so known it was written on his tombstone. His wife knew every night as he was loving her. Once, he loved her so hard she hurt and asked him to love a little less.

He had more to give so he loved Stephanie when her husband’s love had dried up.

He stopped when he disciplined his daughter, who had been such a soft-skinned baby and now was a naughty teenager. That night he spanked her, then loved her along and inside her skin.

Stephanie stopped his loving heart forever.

From Guest Contributor Emily Aledort