Nothing

Andrea spent a lot of time thinking about nothing. To her surprise, when her parents or boyfriend asked her what she was thinking about, her reply always seemed to annoy them. The concept of nothing was so eternally fascinating. She'd try and engage them on the topic, but they insisted she was being distant.

Oh well.

Like, does nothing even exist? There's clearly something, lots of things, so it seemed to Andrea that nothing was just something we imagined.

She was so deep in thought, she failed to notice her teacher staring at her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

No Thought

My doorbell rings with flowers from David. Every year on Valentine’s Day he sends me red roses. The delivery boy smiles waiting for his tip. I hand him the money and shut the door forcibly causing the room to shake. Another vase to take up room in my cabinet.

Just once I’d like David to say he loves me and take me out to a nice dinner. He does the same thing every year without any other thought.

I throw the roses in the trash, the vase cracking into pieces.

I grab my car keys and take myself to dinner.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Difficult Patient

The hearing aid specialist, Linda, clasped her hands against her cheeks.

“Mrs. Marconi, for months now I’ve shown you how to insert the hearing aids. If you're having difficulty, we need another impression to order a new pair.”

Mrs. Marconi shifted in her seat. “No, I hear fine with these.”

Linda explained that if she’s not satisfied, then she needs to rethink her choice.

Mrs. Marconi thanked Linda and walked out.

Linda rolled her eyes and dreaded the thought of her next appointment with her.

She noted in her calendar to call in sick the day of Mrs. Marconi’s appointment.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Pilgrimage

Sage pushed up her visor and glared into the distance. Through the haze and the light, she could just make out the temple nestled into the gulch at the end of the valley. She registered no sign of life between here and her destination.

After such a long journey, she was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to truly take in her surroundings or reflect on the implications of her pilgrimage nearing its end.

Sage had traveled one hundred light years to get to this planet. Until this moment, she had not given any thought to what would come next.

In The Memory Of A Thought To Be

Vernon took his knife and silently pulled it from the tree bark. With a shriek, the first crow flew from the hollow, resting on the ragged grass. Its feathers ruffled, and its face pinched.

Vernon's skull pushed itself upward, bursting through his skin, and making a nest in the now-vacant cavity. Vernon's eyes fell upon the recess within, creating a rotted root system.

He could not believe in any of those things.

Vines sunk from branches covering the ground, winding around tree trunks and breaking them apart. The crow's mouth yawned open, tearing at Vernon's thoughts with claws and teeth.From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

March's End

She can feel it slowly growing. All in existence is born of thought. It starts slow and deep, pounding, hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Expectations lead to disappointment, which inevitably gives birth to resentment. Everything buried from years past mutated into fertile embryonies, vibrating, taking on a life of their own.

As March's end nears, thoughts of isolation waver. A new world awaits those who are willing to embrace its damp offerings. Fruitful grounds to transplant the seeds vaulted away, protecting them from winter's crystalline grasp. New vessels to transport thoughts. Pollinating all those she will touch.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Runaway

The sliver of moon that hung in the dark sky was the only source of light on that cold evening. It had been raining for hours, and the parking lot was now a collection of puddles. Exhausted after a long day, the woman trudged across the lot to her car. She despised leaving work late, since she was still adjusting to her new life in the city. Preoccupied with thought, she didn’t realize that her new life was already over until she reached her car and found a note tucked under her windshield. “Found you,” it screamed in his handwriting.

From Guest Contributor Kelsey Swancott

Kelsey is a senior majoring in English with a minor in Visual Arts and Spanish while also being involved in the campus literary magazine Angles. She plans on furthering her education by getting her master's degree in English as well.

Giant Ship

I listened to the sound of the waves smack against the giant ship, closed my eyes and pictured my wife’s face. Her radiant smile and long blond hair made my heart pulsate. Soon we’d be together once we docked in New York, and she’d be waiting for me with open arms and our son. I relished the thought.

I dropped the picture when the ship shuddered. I opened the door and panicked people filled the hallway.

“What happened?” I asked out loud.

“Titanic has hit an iceberg,” answered a fidgety man.

I went back into my cabin.

Titanic wouldn’t sink.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Fuel For Thought

I miss him already.

Longing for his accommodation from my customary position on his lap. His immediate response to desires communicated with a caress of my foot.

This will be our last intimacy for some time. The intercooler died. The journey to the garage is an uncomfortable affair. Accelerating by exhaling, barely contacting the pedal. Still plunging the road behind into an apocalyptic black cloud of unburnt diesel.

Miles per gallon reading’s down to yards. Glares from other road users threaten to ignite the fuel trail.

“Go green!” They yell.

Jersey is green. Spruce Green. Says so on his logbook.

From Guest Contributor Frances Tate

Drowning Memories

Alex listened to the waves crashing against the shoreline while seagulls flew above, searching for prey. The sun beamed on his face and he wished he had worn a hat.

He walked the beach, the hot sand stinging his toes. Boats sailed in the distance and he wondered what it would feel like to be free of land, but that thought dissipated. His mind shifted to when he almost drowned and his father pulled him from the water shouting his name, punching his chest until he spit up.

His father was now the one drowning, of a disease called cancer.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher