Jack and Angela surveyed the scene with racing hearts. What they’d just witnessed was pure devastation, as insatiable leviathans sucked flesh from bone, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake.

Angela followed into the kitchen, lamenting she’d ever agreed to IVF.

Amidst the barrenness of their surroundings, they found refuge in each other’s arms. Though the winds howled and rained down upon them, they held on tight, refusing to let go. Together, they weathered the storm, their love growing stronger with each passing moment. And as the skies cleared and the sun shone, they knew they had found something special—a love that could withstand anything. Their hearts began to beat as one, like two vines interwoven, awaking a long-forgotten garden. It was as if fate had brought them together—two lost souls searching for a way out of the darkness.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

I am still looking for you. I wish you hadn’t left. Our hearts still hurt badly.

I remember your words, and I will do my best. As I am struggling to learn to continue on without the greatest.

From Guest Contributor Hope Scippio

Hope is a student of journalism, graphic design, and broadcasting at Pikes Peak State College.

There’s a refraction of light that occurs in the brightest sun, causing apparitions to appear. The superstitious call them ghosts.

Philip knows better. His ghosts are worst at high noon. The more there is to look at, the less you’re able to see. And so the ghosts of all those enemy soldiers he killed in the War attend him daily, and he can only drink himself to oblivion.

A nest formed at some point over thousands of years as eggs drift into the sea, carried by currents and tides. Birds with broken feet but wings spread wide, fleeing in flight from dying hearts filled with the blackness of obsidian inhabitants and their unforgiven. They mutate and break down within the lethal darkness from which it grows, blinded by ignorance.

Mothers must be on their guard in the warm calm of dawn, similar to the nights when they sense the fragile awakening of what is. And sometimes they forget the one thing they should never forget: everything is hungry.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

They laugh their boisterous laughs, holding hands with Pride seated in the gaps between their knuckles. Butterflies overflow their love-struck hearts and they try their best not to erupt in a bashful fit of giggles. He looks at her like she is all the world’s treasures in one. And she looks at him like he’s everything her heart has ever yearned for.

Oh, how first love always ends in regret.

From Guest Contributor Mahathi Sathish

Mona was known for her smile, but really, what was so great about it? Just a slice of smile, nothing big and welcoming. Not a smile with a future in it, more of a flirtatious glance than anything else.

Mary Lee had a big welcoming smile. It had greeted legions of men. It was a smile that had launched many ships, one that let men know that she was available and ready for marriage. Perhaps that had been part of her problem. Men wanted what they couldn’t have. They preferred having their hearts broken over settling down to someone real.

From Guest Contributor Eliza Mimski

Bills. They stacked up like a child’s art project on the kitchen
table, each stamped red with the word “overdue.” The house was
crumbling down, the wallpaper peeling off every panel. The walls
trembled as the couple screamed at each other. Blame flew like
household objects; lamps, chairs, and plates.

So they stayed awake, until the sunlight streaked in through the
broken blinds and the couple was ready to start the routine over
again.

From Guest Contributor Artie Kuyper

The most impressive thing Jesus has done recently other than walking on water and dying for everyone’s sins is buying that used turntable at a yard sale. From the moment his fingers graced the platter, he couldn’t stop himself from shredding sweet jams, morning, noon, night.

The evening he stood on that stage holding the Cincinnati DJ Superstar rhinestone-encrusted first place trophy, a tear streamed down his cheek. This one’s for me, Dad. This one’s just for me.

From Guest Contributor Ashley Jae Carranza

Summer holidays meant wagon rides and a delicious break from school.

Standing on the desolate bank, I glance at the familiar walnut blooms at Johnson’s. I wonder how we never discovered the weak spot in life.

From Guest Contributor Swatilekha Roy