The Secret To Staying Human

Mom digs her feet under the wet sand of the Atlantic. I stand next to her, wondering if the ocean will remember her and melt her legs back together.

Each wave climbs higher up our pale legs. Our feet sink deeper and deeper. The surge threatens to topple me, to suck me out to sea. Tears stream down my cheeks.

Mom grabs me. “This was a mistake.”

I cling to her as she rushes toward our towels.

She dries her feet. Inspects each toe. Sighs in relief.

My toes tingle, translucent skin spread between them. The ocean’s song calls me.

From Guest Contributor Sally Simon

Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze’s travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.

Crazy?

Every second changes everything. Even in a padded room with nothing but white walls, a locked door, and himself, he knew this as truth.

All that seemed mundane and inconsequential to others was of the most dire significance to him. How many times he blinked per minute. How many seconds it took the orderly to unlock the door for dinner. When he felt his bladder swell -- it all worked towards the preservation of reality.

He sat in the corner, eyes wide. If his left foot moved, the Earth explodes. If the right, then all was well.

His left toe twitched.

From Guest Contributor Patrick Winters

A Christmas Present

It was Christmas. I saw a 7- or 8-year-old boy wearing a man's overcoat that covered him from neck to toe. The sleeves of the coat were cut short haphazardly to match the boy's arm length. I went to the nearby shop. As I had a son of the same age, I knew the size. I bought a nice pair of clothes, with a matching overcoat. Wearing Santa's hat, I went back and gave new clothes to the boy. The unexpected joy on his face thrilled me. Unplanned charity brings a strange sense of contentment that money can never buy.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.