I tried to warn him. Several times. Maybe that was the problem.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said I told you so.

From Guest Contributor David Thow

“You can do this!” “Be positive.” “You’re not alone.”

Cheryl’s heart raced. Her radiation treatment was about to begin.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

My favorite song died recently. I can still hear the tune in my head, or at least the echoes of it when I’m not concentrating too hard. I fool myself it’s still alive in the world somewhere. The melody slips into my mind, like it’s drifting off my tongue or from out of my throat or maybe from inside my stomach, like heartburn.

I hope that’s not true.

“If you were a fly, Ed…”

“Nah…I’m only interested in regular flies, Ed. I don’t see that many horse flies, compared to the usual house flies, in here today.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

You’d think it was a beautiful spring day. The sky was filled with puffy clouds. The temperature was unseasonably warm, perfect for short sleeves. The air had just a hint of pollen, so that anyone with allergies needed to worry. Colorful buds were starting to pop, and every creature, from squirrels to songbirds to rabbits, believed winter was no more.

George would need to hurry if we wanted to bury my corpse before the soil froze over.

My doorbell rings with flowers from David. Every year on Valentine’s Day he sends me red roses. The delivery boy smiles waiting for his tip. I hand him the money and shut the door forcibly causing the room to shake. Another vase to take up room in my cabinet.

I grab my car keys and take myself to dinner.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

We hug the coastline, the water lipping and lapping, squeezing us against scrub brush and pink granite boulders. Sophie stomps her feet in plops of seafoam eddying in the tide pools. We let her play. So much has been lost. But not this. Her innocence glinting in the sunlight, giggles clutching our heartbeats. We safeguard this last remnant, this singular, unsullied, untarnished, vestige. Otherwise, what is it all for? Trudging at night beneath ribbons of greenish-blue light, the auroras coxswaining us toward safety in the northern hemisphere. We press ahead. Agents two days behind at most. Our precious cargo intact.

From Guest Contributor Karen Schauber

Karen’s flash fiction appears in over 100 international journals, magazines, and anthologies with nominations for the Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, Best Microfiction and the Wigleaf Top 50. Schauber curates Vancouver Flash Fiction – an online resource hub, and in her spare time is a seasoned family therapist. Read her at: KarenSchauberCreative.weebly.com

Dirt and dried mud clung to every surface of the house, a layer of grime so thick it suggested years had passed since any cleaning had been undertaken. Yet the inhabitants, their own clothes equally soiled, acted as if everything about the situation were normal. Their sunny dispositions and politeness in the face of even the rudest insinuations forced the consideration that exterior appearances were, at least in this situation, misleading.

When the discovery of a mass grave was discovered underneath their domicile, conclusions were again revised. Contamination of the home is indeed a sign of contamination of the soul.

We took a cruise which included Roatan, an island off the Honduras coast. We had a fine time just wandering around the island but decided it would be a good idea to go kayaking. We were right, it was a beautiful day in the Caribbean and the bright sun was fine. We thought we had dressed for the occasion, but even with suntan lotion on most parts of our exposed bodies we forgot our feet. Both of us got extremely sunburned feet. Walking was painful for days after, but we still remember our cruise and time spent on Roatan fondly.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Robert repeats his mantra as he tries to concentrate on nothing but his breathing.

This is not a paradise. This is not a paradise.