One night, the sky’s illumination changes and Harland sees the galaxy open up. The stars fade away as hundreds upon thousands of brand-new ones are born. The light reappears, and he watches as, one after another, the familiar stars disappear again. After a new dawn, the sky will shine with the beauty of new creation, as new forms of life will emerge, be nurtured, become powerful, and change the course of history.

Life is good.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Mary held baby Jesus in her arms, coddling him from danger as Joseph watched. He was tiny and quiet, sleeping peacefully. Joseph touched Mary’s shoulder gently and she smiled. The animals surrounded them and watched as the family sat contentedly in joyful wonderment staring at the small gift. Mary, exhausted, stayed awake afraid to leave her newborn son out of her sight, but Joseph took him from her arms, and she laid back and fell into a deep sleep.

The Savior, Christ, who would sacrifice himself for others.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I lit a fire in the garden brazier and threw in all my notebooks. If books are shut they burn slowly but if you fan them out they may catch; soon the blaze was roaring sparks up into the arms of Orion, poised with his great stellar fire-blanket. Passport, driving licence, certificates: orange heat, a feeling of rage and an aftertaste of rubber and almonds. Then I jumped, arms turning into wings, I took the fire into myself. Then I was the stars, then I knew, I was the burning. Singed feathers, and now I could be the morning mist.

From Guest Contributor Geoff Sawers

Abruptly and without my bidding, Alexa announces from her place on the shelf that she’s going to play a selection of music based on my “listening history.” She says it like it’s a good thing. What I might’ve accepted yesterday now for some reason feels kind of intrusive, a digital home invasion. As I fret over the possibility that my computer devices have designs on me, my grandsons, ages 5 and and 11, collapse on the couch, clutching their sides and laughing. They know something I’d momentarily forgotten, that here are only three states of matter, solid, liquid, and farts.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s latest poetry books are The Horse Were Beautiful, available from Grey Book Press, and Swimming in Oblivion: New and Selected Poems from Redhawk Publications.

There’s an owl outside the window. That’s a bad omen.

The thing about pacts with the devil is they are notoriously difficult to break.

Sharon was proud of all the drugs she’d done. Enough drugs to supply a hospital or fund a revolution in Eastern Europe. Enough drugs that her memories of the last seven years had melted together like the rainbow of candle wax she’d made for her fifth grade science fair.

Sharon did not win that science fair, an injustice she still clings to even in her most lucid moments.

I killed the crew of the Wandering Star, humanity’s last hope.

I wept when I realized why I’d been led here. The leviathan declaring the end of humanity.

From Guest Contributor Rick Ansell Pearson

Rick lives and works in central Mexico. His fiction can be found forthcoming in Year Five: Dark Moments and Patreons, published by Black Hare Press.

My father always says Christmas is a time for family not gift giving. Me and my wife Lili tell my son the same, and it doesn’t fly. So, now I’m driving to the electronics store in the snow to purchase an Xbox video game.

Now I know why he’s been such an angel.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

When Blake brought Miqui home that first evening, he spent hours translating the instructions into a form of English he could understand. Miqui had evolved a language much more sophisticated than his own outdated vernacular.

Miqui is Blake’s only company these days, other than the nurses. He remembers when fish still weren’t able to talk. The fish said it was worthwhile he could still recall the good old days. Nostalgia is a uniquely human trait.