Every spring, King Tolliver traveled with his retinue to the ruins. None of the official historians had an explanation of what city once stood here, all of the stories offered contradicting explanations of the calamity that brought the civilization to decrepitude.

Tolliver’s son enjoyed scrambling over the rocks looking for cracked ceramics and the occasional colored glass. More importantly, the king shared the prince’s enthusiasm.

From where she stood, she watched the blood soak into the hard, compacted earth. It was like watching water that has spilled from a glass onto the countertop evaporate in fast motion. Soon it would be as if the dark fluid had never been there, absorbed into this wasteland where it could serve no purpose.

So Mary watched her husband die. Here, freedom surely was a bitterness. Alone, she started walking towards sunset.

Several seats were open at the bar and I sat next to an elderly lady. “Don’t forget Michelle’s dinner,” I thought.

“Oh, I dunno, you’d be surprised. Some of them do better than you think.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

“For two, please,” the woman muttered, fondling the wedding ring on her slim finger. The waiter escorted her to an empty table with a dim candle.

Happy anniversary.

From Guest Contributor Alex Vuong

Alex lives his life out loud and in vibrant color. He loves to put on his headphones and dance through his room. Alex is always looking for opportunities to learn new music and create more art.

She waits at the bar every night, alone in the corner. Her eyes smudged with fine lines and tear stains from years gone by. Lipstick is applied to chaffed lips and she brushes harsh, greying hairs. Her wrinkled hands fiddle aimlessly with yet another glass of the only fluid that offers relief. Her clothes are worn, unchanged throughout the fashions of the last two decades. Every night she drinks in the corner. Every night she drags herself home, a cigarette slouching from her drying mouth. She remembers little else.

With heavy heart she waits for him. He promised to return.

From Guest Contributor Kerry Kelly

Polystyrene-on-glass calls pause. Unknown bird waits. Magpie’s hoarse rattle bobs upon chill breeze, followed by one clipped caw. Wind and distant slumber.

Bleakness prevails, yet wind chimes sound.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

In my perfect prison of smooth, curving walls, I dread the serpentine rope, curling on the bottom of the well.

I have suffered long in this prison well, and I have chosen my end. Once I am no more than soot and foul air, with my last, dry gasps, I will poison them.

From Guest Contributor Virginia Marybury

Dreams projected on a ceiling from a restless mind. A vision of a better tomorrow plays from the imagination onto the stucco. With pleading hope for happiness to join the rising sun, the reality of sadness can be temporarily cast aside. Muscles relax and the burden lessens with the promise. Eyes close and colors dance a firefly ballet on the back of eyelids. Fantasies and nightmares disturb the slumber but recede with the buzz of an alarm clock. Golden rays of butterscotch pour through the glass and warm the face. I rise, we all rise… with hope in our hearts.

From Guest Contributor Jordan Altman

Charlie and Shannon had been expecting a crowd at their house for New Year’s Eve, but ten o’clock approached and still no one showed.

Charlie threw the invitations out and gulped his wine.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Keep your footing steady, prepared for the slick, the slide, your
flight, your footlessness, your unexpected sky view. Run towards the
hazy white clouds, the early sun’s pinkish fire, the black ice–a
lake, a mottled mirror. You know the quiet sidewalk, the barren apple
tree, the forgotten field. But this sea yearning, this siren call to
dive deep, feet first, into the glass, the shatter–is undeniable, an
immersion, a full body baptism. You suddenly find yourself splayed and
shaken, flat on your back, laughing at your air walk, your feet now
hesitant, dull–the morning light cool, the day transparent,
expectant.

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb