What The Stars Saw

The stars saw her face, someone who wishes wildflowers never died, thunder always accompanied rain, and the sounds of the waves were something that left the shoreline. Even the tears she shed when she thought it was only her and the items of clothes on the floor because the mirror just did not look right. The stars saw the smile she wore when he cherished her in the dark and the tears she lost when she was left to her own company on the worst nights. Some nights the stars were enough. Some nights, she wished they would do more.

From Guest Contributor Caitriona Mullenix

Nothing To Spare

Yours? Mine? Arguments. Ideologies differ. Attempt to build bridge between us. Links missing. Structure collapses. Earth? Water? No collaboration. Excuses made. Stubbornness. Misunderstandings. Light? Dark? We try meeting at middle ground. Concluding we can't agree. Not in thought, time or space. Coffee's gone cold. I mind. He doesn't. Ketchup smeared on fridge door. I wipe off. Mustard appears. Grass is greener over there, he says. I don't care. I prefer wildflowers. He repaints the scene with concrete. I'm younger, by two years exact. Can hardly wait for... Brother leaves for college. Forgets his toothbrush. I throw it into his room.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. 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.

Plastic Flowers

Miranda stood alone in a field of colorful wildflowers, carefully examining each one, searching for an explanation of why they were not actually alive, but rather were made of plastic. She had never encountered anything like it in her thirty years of botanical study.

She eventually capitulated and returned to her car. It also was made of plastic. So was the park entrance and the sign next to it. When she arrived back at the lab, her assistants had turned to plastic as well.

She would always consider her younger days, before everything became plastic, as the 'Good 'ol days.'