The gentle ripple of the waves soothes me, as I listen to the seagulls flying above searching for prey. A mother is helping her young son build a sandcastle while keeping an eye out for her daughter. “Don’t go too far out,” she bellows.

The ocean is a world of its own, and the world is the ocean.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Here is a secret–it’s not about the pain. Rather, it’s about prolonging the discomfort.

…and you might just catch when my eyes roll back.
Mmmmmm.

From Guest Contributor Jeff H.

Jeff is a high school English teacher. He blogs at https://batchandnarrative.com/ with his wife, a dietitian, about writing, food, and everything else.

Adulthood in Texas means being old enough to get the electric chair if you kill someone. In 17th century England offenders sent to the pillory were pelted by the crowd with dung, dead cats and dogs, rotten vegetables, and, in extreme cases, stones and even saucepans. Some, though, flung flowers in Defoe’s face. It’s the difference between weather and climate. The least you can do is pretend to care. In Jewish tradition a righteous man is buried with 144 prayer books atop his coffin. When my Uncle Lou was buried, they put the books in cardboard boxes labeled Kitchen Utensils.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.

The mist glistened with false promises. The canopy dripped the tears of myriad misled bards of all races who had put effort into the creation of tales only to be demeaned by the praising of the Mediocre tribe by the forest’s Editelves.

The trolls, in particular, grumbled angrily as the incantation of rejection echoed through the avenues, causing even lianas to cringe. “We have decided not…”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid