Change Of Heart

Think of it as a substitute pump,” the surgeons encourage him. “Latest technology, stringent testing. Equally life-enhancing as the heart God gave you.”

Will it buy him time for his daughter’s imminent wedding? Or beyond, and a new grandchild?

“Side effects include problematic emotional disorders.”

Surely morning birdsong, leisurely travel, favourite classical music will quiet unexplained turmoil.

He acquiesces, yet flails against this plastic invader into his chest.

Without warning, a fog enwraps his mind, shrouds familiar feelings. The mystifying retreat of joy, sorrow, empathy panics him. Why has love for his daughter vanished?

Oblivious, his new heart pumps steadily.

From Guest Contributor Gary Thomson

Magic Of Hell

Closed time curved loop reality travel is what Mandela-effected people are experiencing.

Say WHAT? Imagine if you will a group of people with the ability to steal ideas, people, souls, and move them from one reality to the next.

Then realize the multiverse is nothing more than mirror realities played over and over again like a film with many endings.

Those moving through time are seeing the world as a past life. Where words like Dilemna are now spelt like Dilemma. While mirror mirror on the wall is talking about a Kozyrev magic mirror that transported souls from one realm.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

River Of Memories

Fishel sent his wife and two boys away even though Adella insisted they stay until his fever broke. He wouldn’t hear of it. The “Wolves” could arrive at any moment, and he didn’t want to risk his family.

Fishel’s temperature raged, and he became delirious, his wife a constant vision. Too weak to travel, he went to bed, fell into a deep slumber, and dreamt of his family.

Stomping and yelling awakened him from his pleasant dream.

Four Nazi’s burst through the door, guns pointed at Fishel’s face.

“Get up Jew.”

He obeyed and left a river of memories behind.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Addiction

Juliana knew it was psychological. But the distress of withdrawal was real.

Her travel wanderlust was more than an indulgence. It was a craving deep in her cells. Journeys broke the shackles of the mundane and had become the embodiment of her independence.

Her last fix was fifty days ago. She kept distracted with work and avocation diversions. Yet, her mind would drift to the need, and normally steady hands would tremble.

When the seductive siren called, Juliana’s immobility became a shrinking coffin. Claustrophobic and suffocating.

As the taxi dropped her at the airport, she was able to breath. Freedom.

From Guest Contributors A.L. Gabriella and Billy Ray

Birthright

Brandon surveyed the sea of grass standing before him. The wind, which shook the trees and rained leaves down from above, was swallowed up in the green swathe so that the air at ground level was nearly silent.

When he left home, this had been an empty plain of course dirt and stone. Summer storms eroded the land, winter froze what remained, and travel across was rough but manageable.

Now the surface was alive and Brandon was scared. But he was also determined to return to his birthright.

He took only a few steps before he drowned in the vegetation.

New Year's Resolutions

A new year. Time to make new, exciting changes.

Shall I spend more time writing, or perhaps make time to relax with a cup of coffee next to the warmth of the fireplace with a good book. I could clean out the basement and get rid of old Christmas ornaments I never use. How about jogging or enrolling in a paint class. Joining a book club could be fun. I would love to discuss “To Kill A Mockingbird.” Skydiving, snorkeling, traveling the world. Maybe.

Or maybe this is all wishful thinking, since I only have a short time to
live.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

China

A friend asked, “Alyssa, do you think you’ll travel next year?” From deep within, without previous forethought, I knew. “Yes, I’m going to China!” I positively proclaimed. A week later I confided in a mentor at a local fair about my revelation but that I felt some doubt. We entered an exhibit room. Two handmade Chinese dresses stood at the entrance. Intrigued, I inspected them. The seamstresses had sewn their names on the insides of the collars. The first said “Alyssa” and the second said “Faith”. I heard a voice say, “Alyssa have faith.” Months later I traveled to China.

From Guest Contributor Alyssa Welch-Minaker

Alyssa is an online MFA writing student at Lindenwood University. She lives in North Africa where she reads excessively and plays with words. Visit her blog at alyssaminaker.wordpress.com

Light

You leapt forward with clear resolve. Left me standing in the dark.

I mull over your departure. Review circumstances. My mind turns somersaults, not being able to comprehend.

It wasn’t me, you once said. Not even us. You tried to resolve battles within you. Past demons colliding with ideals you set for the future. Hope slipping into a void.

I offered you help. You refused.

Into the darkness I stare. Light beams from afar. Tempts me to look into a future I can make my own.

I’ll open the door. Be on my way. Knowing you won’t travel with me.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

Faster Than Light

When it was just science fiction, faster than light travel wasdepicted in terms of sight and sound. Stars would blur into radiallines, as layers of synthesised sound effects bombarded a 21st centurymovie audience.

Now that it's reality, it's the smell that dominates. The overpoweringreek of rotten sauerkraut mixed with fecal notes that sticks to youfor weeks.

Harold always dreads an assignment on a new planet, but when you workin galactic trade you go where the company sends you.

The hotel receptionist sniffs and wrinkles her button nose beforepolitely enquiring: "Have you travelled far?"

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

Missing

He felt he’d been travelling. Couldn’t be sure. His memory was as misty as the panorama. It looked like Kiev: all those domed churches. How would I know that? The question hung there, unspoken. The answer ignored it.

He looked down at shapely legs and high-heels. What the–

The world spun. Elise was a woman: always had been. The last thing she remembered was the headache at Lloyds. Oh God...work. Did I walk out?

She reached into her handbag. Passport, cash, credit cards...no tickets.

She determined to make a doctor’s appointment the minute she got home.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid