I carried my dog Dougie to the car, his whining echoing. I was too busy engrossed in the baseball game to notice his barking and I have no idea how long he was trapped in that wire fence while I cheered and gorged on chips.

I sat and waited.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The train came to a halt, and the platform filled with German police. They entered, and people quieted while my heart pounded.

A few more stops and I’ll be safe.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

He’s seeking to please, down on his knees, when everything freezes.

It just goes to show: nothing truly matters, when nothing ever lasts.

Grampa used to warn that if we weren’t fast coming home, wolves would eat us. I knew he must be joking, yet I still hurried to beat nightfall just in case.

Now that I’m a father myself, I understand he wasn’t joking. I mean, there weren’t literal wolves. We lived in the suburbs. But he knew the dangers that only come at night, the dangers of the heart. When you truly love someone, would sacrifice your own life to save theirs, you want them to hurry as fast as they can because you won’t have peace until they’re safely home.

The damn dog wouldn’t stop digging.

I hit her right between the eyes.

From Guest Contributor E. Barnes

E has works in The Purple Pen, The Haven, Spillwords, Centina Pentina, Entropy, NanoNightmares and a collection of the works, Flash Crazy, was published in 2021 and is available on Amazon.

It left a strange taste in her mouth, just as Robert said her first would. But it was successful and could launch her career. A perfect heart shot at 300 yards. There are those that will want to know who made the shot. She left traceable evidence of her sniper nest, so the exact shot distance would be known.

Maybe it should have bothered her, but it didn’t. What’s one less human trafficker in the world? She’d happily trade his life for one less girl trafficked. At least one mother got the justice she wanted and will sleep well tonight.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

She sits in a worn wheelchair, slightly swaying to the raspy and sultry melodies playing on the radio behind her. Drunkenly sloshing the dark brown liquid in the bottle she’s nursed throughout the night. Her eyes are as heavy as her heart, drooping with sadness and weeping with grief. Taking another sip, she sighs as the liquid scorches down her throat. She hums along to the music, reminiscing times when she played the same syncopated rhythms on stage. Her knobby and wrinkled fingers dance in the air on her ghost piano while swallowing sobs, thinking about her glorious old memories.

From Guest Contributor Sa’Mya Hall

I want these days to be about more than just waiting. How can they be? Waiting surrounds me, engulfs me, floods me…swirling, fast, faster than I can dog-paddle away… Things will never be the same again, even if, even if… Things will never be the same again, even if the white coats say all is well, even if what I’m awaiting turns out to be snip-snip-and-it’s-gone. I’ve caught a whiff that so permeated my nostrils my neural pathways my brain my heart, its remnants echo into the rest of whatever part of not-forever that I do get to see.

From Guest Contributor Cynthia Bernard

My heart aches when I look at the faded photo of my wife. I place it back in my pocket and lean over the trench, rifle in position.

With the photo clutched to my chest, I take my last breath.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

When I rode my bicycle past the Nazis they laughed and threw rocks at me. They hated our kind, and it was time to leave. I had no family, and lived in a small apartment alone, so it wouldn’t take long to pack. I neatly folded my suits and placed them into the luggage. I took the money I saved, stuffed it inside my jacket pocket, took one last look around and walked out the door to the train station.

My heart would ache until death.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher