Sam always used rubber bands to hold up her ponytail; I’m still finding them around the apartment, lost during sex, or when she shook out her hair after a long day at work, or in any of a dozen different ways. The trust between us proved less elastic, and snapped.

Everything came undone when she found that bobby pin in the bathroom. I told her that Jodie had just needed to wash bird crap out of her hair when she dropped by, but clearly I wasn’t believed. Now, in every sense, there’s no way left to hold things in place.

From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar

Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His work can be found at https://linktr.ee/alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.

Sam’s touched up face, slicked brown hair and embalmed body, reminded me that he really was gone.

Now I must break the news of my Parkinson’s disease. But not today.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The ghosts came and went.

Then with my heart beating fast, I woke up and the ghost was gone.

From Guest Contributor Kaia Gallagher

The mud on my face sticks to me from the heat of the sun, and I’m cramped in a hole waiting.

And so, I sit and wait.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

She exclaims into the camera with twice as much enthusiasm. Smiling at herself, she admires her smoky eyeliner, sleek black cat frames, and her hair’s feathered highlights, with its slight curl held in place with a butterfly barrette. Hard to believe she’s afraid of losing her upper hand— her grip that keeps the focus on her. Even though, she knows she has run out of excuses to stay home. She’s just worried sick about everyone. So, she must make do with sharp sound bites, while her inner voice bounces like a loose tin can, tumbling down another dark side street.

From Guest Contributor M.J. Iuppa

M.J.’s 100-word stories have appeared most recently in 100 Word Story, Eunoia Review, Milk Candy Review, Otoliths, PIF Magazine, The Drabble Review, The Dribble Drabble Review, A Story in 100 Words, and others. For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.

I was the second-best dancer then. Mariza, with her long black hair waving down the front of a white cotton shirt, tucked into just-right faded jeans, controlled all of nature’s choreography within her. Her feet skimmed the floor, easy on the beat. Her arms and legs flexed to the rhythm, finding a kind of body paradise. But following her movements, memorizing and imitating, I became frustrated and discouraged. Until I realized I wasn’t destined to be a mirror. I would guide the expression of music I felt, becoming the lead dancer on that thin ledge, possessing my true 13-year-old self.

From Guest Contributor Yvonne Morris

Yvonne is the author of the poetry chapbook Mother was a Sweater Girl (The Heartland Review Press). She has poetry and fiction forthcoming in Cathexis Northwest Press and Drunk Monkeys.

The journey with Hercules was arduous. We sailed the ominous sea, and the storm destroyed our ship. Stranded, with few survivors, I searched for a lake to quench our thirst.

The ritual began again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I found her in the rust climbing over shower tiles, red-brown on sea-green. She began as spots, then shapes—a rabbit? A snail? A man, then a woman. She was a mermaid with me for five years, singing pirate songs of lost souls in fishbowls and other Pink things; then she grew out of her skin, became an unnamed creature, alive without lines, her hair like fire. Now only one wisp of her tail holds on to the faucet, for me. She floats free in the glossy turquoise beyond, laughing above the rusty piles of what she used to be.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook Bhagat’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, Little India, Rat’s Ass Review, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She and her husband Gaurav created Blue Planet Journal, which she edits and writes for. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University, is an assistant professor of English at a community college, and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See more at brook-bhagat.com.

A knock at the door jolts me off the sofa. I peek through the blinds then rush to the bedroom to throw on my favorite dress, hoping he’ll wait.

I dash to the door, but it’s too late. As he drives away, I feel sadness overtake me for a minute. Then I remember his purpose. Smiling, I look to the ground. My Amazon order has arrived.

From Guest Contributor Jennifer Lai

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.