We have walked about 30,000 miles together. That’s more than once around the circumference of the earth. On clear mornings a sliver moon greets us. Autumn brings magic. From summer’s green comes a cacophony of color. Winter evenings are deeply dark. Light the torch to check the footing.

“So what do you talk about?” A few have asked this. We communicate in silence. Each small step a giant leap for matrimony.

From Guest Contributor Sam Brody

My mother went in the hospital for heart surgery and never came out. What would make someone leave all this? It’s a question I often ask myself when I get up in the morning or when I lay down at night. Take cleaning your sheets seriously; there’s sweat and drool and worse on them. (By the way, meat tenderizer and saliva remove bloodstains.) The old bluesmen had voices caked with blood and as scuffed and battered as their guitar cases. No one will believe you live the blues if you wear a suit – unless, like me, you’ve slept in it.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

On her death bed, Jennifer’s thoughts don’t dwell on her husband, despite several decades of marriage and two children together.

It was only two weeks, but that was enough time to know Mateo was the love of her life.

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.

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

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The security guard at the door had asked you to open your backpack, please. All the contents had crumbled as soon as they’d been exposed to light. Now a bride and groom were standing on a raised platform with blindfolds in place. “I feel like we’re in the apocalypse,” I whispered. “We kinda are,” you answered. And yet most of the attendees maintained the blank expression usually reserved for looking at glowing screens. An officiant in a hooded garment joined the couple up on stage. We should’ve left then, before the dancers sprang out from somewhere and scattered your ashes.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

The anguish of losing a loved one aches the heart. Henry knew this too well as he walked the cemetery grounds to his wife’s grave, carrying a dozen red roses, her favorite flower.

A gentle breeze blew a rose petal in the air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Amusement Park. Strange name. Bet there are more unamused adults than young children. Heard Uncle Max scream. Saw him vomit on the Ferris Wheel, again. After he said he couldn’t stomach it. Cousins bashed themselves manoeuvring bumper cars. Their dads were not amused. Neither was the ride operator. Too much cotton candy caused my sweet tooth to sour at the dentist’s. We tried the Swing Carousel. I sat with Dad. The swing in front of us was empty. Would’ve been filled if the father of a toddler didn’t have a tantrum. They relocated at the merry-go-round. I preferred the Pendulum.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and many friends.

The scream of the seagull broke the silence on the dock. His old dog looked at him and gave a soft whine. It was her fourteenth season and he wondered if it would be her last. Her coat had lightened over the years and little wasn’t gray on her muzzle. He rubbed her head as they walked to his boat.

The traditional start of main lobstering season was underway. It might be her last season.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

He was a Gladiator, slaying every question with his answers. Judges admired him as the Atlas lifting our team. At first, I pitied for our status, consequently he hoarded us.

A voice raised from our side answering the question. That spotless answer navigated us to the trophy.

From Guest Contributor Vivek Vr

If you slow down for a yellow light, the cops will write you a ticket. Of course, if you blow through the light, they’ll write you a ticket for that, too. Half the drivers resist but soon give up, half try to hide. I didn’t believe my friends when they first told me. Then people started collapsing due to the stress of the situation. I’d seen rockets explode on liftoff, coyotes violate dogs. Yet I didn’t expect this at all. Our lives are just daydreams in a dead landscape. It’s now a crime in Utah to harass cattle with drones.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.