Veronica

No one planted bluebird boxes along the grassy edge. Yet they flutter here. First five, then six alight on the Warner graveyard stone. Dappled sunshine filters through the poplar tree nearby caressing their brilliant azure coats. I speak aloud to them. “Come visit me in yonder years. I’ll be just around the bend near that slender silver birch. Bring your children by to warble quietly above my sleeping head.”

tom

That flat was not going to fix itself. And this rain was not about to give anyone a break. He knew, this time, she would not wait.

How does this all work? Methods are conceived. Patents secured. Machines, factories built. Attorneys paid. Bad checks written. Too much or too little alcohol consumed. Licenses revoked. Children’s birthdays forgotten. Numbers, names, addresses lost. Is that how this all works?

lynn bey

An old teacher said he’d always played fair. Friends from college called him their glue. His mentor envied his fine instinct, and colleagues—rivals, too—declared him virtuosic. Weeping, the youngest daughter pledged to make him proud.

Standing at the lectern, I recognized his wife from a photograph I’d hung onto: stylish, assured, unjarred by life’s missteps.

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “With me he could be himself.”

tom

But he was already ON the Road Less Travelled and was increasingly regretting the choice. Hearing the din in the distance, he thought maybe he could still beat a path to the Road More or even Road Most Travelled. Surely either would have better restaurants, nicer hotels, and cleaner rest stops.

By the way, who defines the line between patriotism and blind allegiance? Isn’t that what makes all the difference?

Genny

Her grandmother's warm hand casually rests on her knee. The foot tucked underneath was falling asleep but she refuses to readjust. The rare form of affection is delicious, even in this Manila heat. She has 15 days to make up for 14 years of absence; before a plane takes her back to her New York reality. Two weeks to gather defining stories before cancer finally takes away the family’s matriarch and center of gravity.

dawn

The heavy July breeze seemed to ooze rather than waft. Her skin felt sticky and gritty as she lifted her forearm to keep the sweat from stinging her already tear-burned eyes. The bouquet of wild flowers lay wilted and sad on her muddied lap. The fool. The poor romantic fool. She knew when he came calling that he was of the mind to marry. He had sprang up the muddy path barely touching the ground. He did however touch the ground heavily after he asked her to present her sister with the flowers and his intent.

Peter

He sat with his back straight as he waited for the sun; like his mother had trained him to at the dinner table. Shadows engulfed the peak above him as he gazed down upon the scattered lights of the valley. He inflated his chest, filling out his canvas jacket, trying to feel warmer, more comfortable, even if only for a moment. Time kept slowing down was the problem. His breathing, too. The eastern sky showed no life.

Margaret

I was born the day my daddy quit breathing. He set off dynamite in his coal mine and a ton of coal dust blew right into his lungs. Pearlie laid him out in the wagon all dark and black. At the hospital Doc put him in an oxygen tent. When momma saw him lying there covered with coal dust, she thought he was dead. She screamed, her water broke and I was born. It took all of 5 minutes. Doc said fright will do that to you.

Lee

“No problem” he thought. It was a problem, but he wouldn’t notice until it was too late. “420? That’s, like, 3 tweets. I’ve said plenty in 3 tweets.” It wasn’t. He hadn’t. “I’ll start with an intriguing character...” He thought for a moment, wasting precious space with the ellipsis. “OK, I’ll go back to it. The crucial thing is a big turn. Perhaps something tragic, a ruinous fatal flaw. Maybe hubris.” It was too late

Jennifer

One wish? Easy! For so long she’d had one thought, her mind a wall of bricks mortared by contempt for him. She’d ridden into the forest to escape being handed over like a golden trinket, daddy to husband. “To marry for love.” A pause, “Granted.” Hoofbeats pound like traitors at her door, closer, surrounding her. Armor crashes, father’s men on bended knees. “The king is dead! Long live the queen!” Granted.

Cathy

On the raw winter day she moved out, my lover gave me her vintage fur. I accepted its promise of warmth, and that night spread the ponderous thing across my empty bed. As I lay flattened beneath its weight, my despair was met by another unexpected grief. A deep sadness was seeping through the thick, dark folds of the old coat and pooling in my eyes. Yet again cast off by a woman, we shared the tears of our loss.

Stephanie

I killed the plants. What, like my Aunt Betty, she had no green thumb. No, it was premeditated. What, you intentionally didn’t water them? I thought about it for quite a while. People say plants flourish from kind thoughts so I experimented with the opposite effect. What, zap them with negative brain waves like sci-fi. I focused as a laser. What the hell, man, like your thumb is black. The cactus was the toughest.

Angela

She glanced through the window; the train traveled at great speed. Though the engine advanced, she felt she was back in time. She noticed an old woman in the glass while she retracted the ticket from her pocket. The unknown woman had gray hair and appeared serene. She wondered what would be her final destination. She didn’t need to look at her watch to ascertain how much time had gone by, the reflection was hers.

Katy

Drinking too much coffee on the California Zephyr (it's free!). I watch from the sleeping car at the back of the train as the engine curves into the mountain. Minute after minute of diesel-y black, chugging through the Moffat tunnel. The window filled with impossibly slanted red rock -- that which is up was down eons ago. An exhilarating glimpse of a bald eagle tracing the path of the Colorado mocks me in my cramped, sealed box.

David

Strollers around the lake looked up. Overhead a small cloud of curved flickering white lines faded in and out of sight. Some said it was a flock of geese following the Hudson River south.
And below, a pair of cormorants appeared, diving in turn to fish, flying through the water on their wings, to re-emerge in startling unsuspected spots beneath the vibrating sky.

Lisa

No one in the waiting room looked anything like her. There were two schools of thought on this. First, she would never get the part because she was completely wrong for it. Or second, she had been called in to audition expressly because of her differences. Sometimes people only think they know what they want. What they actually want is something they never imagined. You just had to get in there and show them.

Bobby

He threw his guitar pick into the crowd after the encore; gathered the roses thrown on stage he’d gift the ugly waitress he’d see at the Waffle House down I-40. Shaking hands while posing for the obligatory photos with the promo bigwigs was cursory; ignoring their “best show ever” BS. Accepting a cold Bud from a roadie, he headed to his bus. First, pee, then her lawyer wanted his John Henry on the divorce papers.

John

The Elderly you see today
Were Children this morning.
They were born yesterday
And sang and danced and played
With their Brothers and Sisters and Friends
Whose own Parents were Kids
Just a few hours before that.

We'll bury our Parents this afternoon
And our Children will be born tonight
So they can bury us in the morning.
And their Children
will grow up
And catch up
With the rest of the elderly.

Helene

Woman Overheard in Equinox Gym: “I found my sole! It was in my locker, curled in a corner!”
The Soul: “I thought you ‘d never come back. strutting on those Manolos -- THE CEO’S WHORE! Slapping your kid, yelling you’re not a whore ! Puking vodka tequilas, Stopping your tithe . Denying you’re Black! But then, sleepless, curled in a corner-- CRYING FOR YOUR MAMA---
sucking on the edge of the pillow, I knew you’d unlock me , I knew you’d find me ,
curled in a corner. Waiting for you.”

David

Muttering as she stumbled onto the bus, Edie had never been to jail before. A prisoner getting out after twenty nine years, who would care? Her instructions, “go find Eva, get the story, she lived here before doing hard time". The family Edie did not belong to weighed heavy on her mind, The bus stunk. Eva, was the last one out of the gate. A long look, hazy memory, photos from her youth, it hit hard.“Mom”, she asked?