Forks In The Road

Darcy and I stare at Walter through shatterproof glass at the prison during visiting hours.

Walter’s handcuffed knuckles, pressing against his temples, are white. “Toasting forks?! Those thirty-inch-long skewers you use for toasting marshmallows?”

I nod. “I put them out with the salad at dinner.”

“How could you?” he sputters.

Darcy grimaces. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to get expelled for jabbing people.”

“It’s not your fault, Darce,” Walter says. “Mom should’ve known better than to give you the exact weapons I used for the trail of destruction that landed me here.”

I sigh. “I was trying to normalize them.”

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

The Sermon

Pastor Franzmeier was disturbed. For his upcoming Sunday sermon, he'd chosen the Book of Genesis. Why not start there? "In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth." But then the nagging questions occurred – Could it have been different? Had the Almighty blown it?

He sat back in his chair, placing his third cup of coffee on the table beside him. How many more would he need? As he massaged his temples, a booming voice from the heavens above shook the room, overturning the cup. "YOU CALL THAT BLOWING IT, FRANZMEIER? LET'S SEE HOW YOUR SERMON GOES THIS SUNDAY…"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

All Below Was Sky

All below was sky. No, that isn’t right. You are upside down. The seatbelt keeps you suspended a foot above ground. Blood swells and pounds in your temples, or was it the whiskey? Frank was on the street.

Ejected. He had been thrown fifty feet.

Dead and dusky.

His seersucker shirt plunged a deep v on a chest of ringlets. Oxford buttons pin a lapel dyed crimson. You count the spots on a ladybug as it skitters across. Stripes and six spots. A gnarled oak casts shade on the misshapen corners of a green license plate.

A wailing siren approaches.From Guest Contributor Kyle J. Ames

Kyle is a student of English at Pikes Peak Community College