It’s New Year’s Eve and Chad is in quarantine. His Covid-19 test came back negative the first time and he’s waiting on the next one. He doesn’t feel sick and he’s confident the test will come back negative.

The next afternoon Chad’s test is positive.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

The guests looked on with complete bewilderment as my future parents exchanged what sounded like ironic wedding vows. Afterwards at the reception, a farmer sang about his favorite crop and then it was the best man’s turn to speak. He had barely begun when my father interjected, “Spare us your life philosophy.” The wailing that arose might have been especially invented for the end of the world. Everything was burning. People, drapes, carpets, tablecloths – everything. In years to come, my brothers and I would pick through the blackened ruins. Haven’t you ever noticed that only the poor have dirty hands?

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s latest full-length poetry collection, Gun Metal Sky, is due in early 2021 from Thirty West Publishing

Ever since he switched hairdressers, his wife always made remarks about the result.

She started handling scissors and trimmers as if she were a pro, until finally she stepped back, bent her head to the left, then to the right, and said: “Ever considered wearing a hat?”

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Ophelia under the water; kneecap mountains poking out dwarf the dipping hills of her breasts. The ragged, brown seaweed strands of her hair move gently as her hot kettle sighs ring around the steam-shrouded bathroom.

She finds brash or delicate things expose her madness—the rough lyrics of a Pogues’ song or the fragrance of a flower bomb. Silver chains on her thighs, bright relics of dejection, shackle her to the past but aren’t enough to save her. So she piles his words as pebbles on her heart and in this way she doesn’t float away—at least not today.

From Guest Contributor Adele Evershed

Flour, salt and baking powder. Margaret whips up a cake recipe as familiar as her own name. The whirring of the stand mixer comforts her.

The glass, like Karl, is gone.

From Guest Contributor Heather Santo

I can’t say for certain which music I’m enjoying more – Susumu Yokota’s Asian ambience on the laptop or the garden’s new water fountain concert.

Some creatures—most creatures—know far more than I.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

Ron’s many published works, including his debut chapbook, Fallen Away, can be found HERE.

A man shuffled down a city block, ringing doorbells. His spirit motivated by optimism.

He left with a bag of festive cookies gifted by her; a token of appreciation for his shoveling of her walkways.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She is based in Edmonton, Canada.

I clear the breakfast plates as a dutiful wife, while my husband, Robert, legs crossed, newspaper in hand, clears his throat and faces me.

I hold my head high, grab my “Women have the Right to Vote banner,” and walk out the door to Fifth Avenue to make a difference.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

People, she thought, were like gadgets. They could be tucked away neatly into white boxes, each waiting to fulfill their role. Friends, family, coworkers—they each had their own purpose in her life, and she never let them stray. Few coworkers ever became friends, and even fewer friends became family. Nobody crossed the inner circles of her life without her permission. And then, there was him. The glitter explosion that disrupted her perfect life, bringing just a little mess with him, wherever he went. She now carried that intoxicating aura as it radiated from her chest in amber waves: Bull’s-eye.

From Guest Contributor Kelsey Swancott

Kelsey is a senior majoring in English with a minor in Visual Arts and Spanish while also being involved in the campus literary magazine Angles. She plans on furthering her education by getting her masters degree in English as well. Her work has been published in Entropy Squared, The Dribble Drabble Review’s Spring 2021 issue, and Otoliths in February 2021.

They kicked in the door. Your wife screamed. A few of them were wearing white lab coats as if they were doctors. The world was behaving in ways you wouldn’t have believed possible a short while ago. With a “doctor” on each side, and people in neighboring apartments covertly watching, you were hustled down the stairs and across the street and into an ambulance. To this day, no one will talk about what might have become of you. Everything is either too hot or too cold; nothing is soft. Prepubescent girls have dreams eight feet high and made of steel.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s latest full-length poetry collection, Gun Metal Sky, is due in early 2021 from Thirty West