I’m spending New Year’s Eve with my Shih-Tzu Millie, sitting on the couch with a novel, sipping wine and eating crackers. I’ll turn on the television when it gets close to midnight. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the last few nights of the Christmas tree and its decorations. Millie tugs at my sweater since I’ve been ignoring her, so I rub her stomach. I check my watch and turn on the television. The ball begins its descent.

As I sit and wait, I reflect on the many mistakes I made and hope the new year will be a fresh start.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Robert was late. This was especially infuriating to Cynthia because he had the ability to be anytime anywhere. If she were honest with herself this peculiarity was the reason she fell in love with him, but now she just found his anachronisms annoying.

He was sad when Cynthia broke up with him, so he went back and ensured she’d never been born.

My family sings and we eat ice cream cake, the crunchy bits dancing across my tongue. We shovel sugary forkfuls into our mouths, laughing and sharing kindred stories. We are warm. We are comfortable. We are sheltered.

Whistles for justice pierce the air before biting clouds of pepper spray surround the faces of protestors fighting for their neighbors. There is a shove, and all the world sees a cell phone raised in a clenched fist; a lifeless body sprawled in the street.

From Guest Contributor Brigitta Scheib

Naomi preferred the chessboard to reality. When playing, every piece and every rule is precise. Away from the game, nothing seems certain. Why am I feeling these emotions, and what do they mean? Did he really say that? Could this really be happening?

So how can it hurt more to be betrayed by someone you love than to lose a match?

The crows gather from miles around, blanketing the sky in a murderous patchwork of feathers and claws. The cacophony sends shivers in every direction, and the people wonder what calamity is portended. Something primeval is at work.

Lena watches from the balcony, wondering why the grownups are so frightened. Can’t they see the crows are simply giving voice to their sadness, just like Daddy does when he’s had too much to drink? Perhaps grown-ups run out of pity when they reach a certain age. They’ve learned their emotions are only worth sharing when you get something you want in return.

It was pouring rain, but I just couldn’t leave on his birthday, Christmas Day. I placed the pine cone wreath against the headstone, the red bells I added for the holiday chiming.

“Happy Birthday, Georgie.”

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Whenever I take a flight, I prefer to relax with a good book for the duration. The last thing I need is a disruption.

My big mistake was politely asking him to stop whining.

The opened book lured him with its golden glow.

He relaunched into the present, moving onwards to the museum’s next exhibit.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Brad felt like his entire life had lead to this moment. The weeks of relentless training. The years of cutthroat business success that made the expedition possible. The lifetime of dedication and sacrifice that helped sharpen his discipline to the point where absolutely nothing could ever stand in the way of accomplishing his goals. Not his family, not his peers, not any of the many unimportant distractions fate might place on his path.

“It’s all downhill from here, sir.”

The end came as a surprise. Endings always do. It got to the point he was checking his watch, wondering how much longer this could possibly go on, but then it was suddenly the denouement, and he looked about wondering if anyone else had seen this coming, and they all had. He was the only one caught unawares.

He choose to think about the last walk they took together, and the first walk, and all the walks in between. They were always the same walk, but he’d give everything for just one more.

In response to Thrilling Conclusion by Robert Wood Lynn