The next time you’re caught in a really bad place – the kind of place where people are always asking each other, “Oh why can’t they get that baby out of the ground?” – take some frequently used verbs and combine them in a bowl with Hindu magnet incense, a bit of forgotten history, brain fluid, and warm dog’s breath, and then let the mixture sit for 20 minutes, after which you should be able to see a faint glow up there, see it coming over the hill, women wearing sky blue T-shirts that say “Quaker” and waving signs that say “Love.”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s latest collections are I’m Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submissions Press.

He gazed at her, longingly, knowing that it would never be. His dream crashing down upon the floor. Broken words won’t help no more. Her mind was made. His heart–betrayed. He brushed her cheek: a simple good-bye. What more could be done? What more could he supply? He fell to his knees, “my sweet don’t leave!” But, she just left him there to grieve. He fell to the ground, in a sprawl, as the only sound he heard were high heels, echoing off the wall.

Take life’s hand and run with fate.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

Mouth agape, eyes widened with fear, I looked on to what my world had been. Everything I lived for was swept up in a distant array of mud, debris and…corpses. Even through my grief, I knew the landslide had chosen me, to avenge everyone’s lives that came to an end in this short, devastating moment. This was my calling, which I would live through for the rest of my life, bearing their dreams.

Standing strong, even until this day, I recall this distant memory. With tears beginning to well in my eyes I see hope glimmering from the future.

From Guest Contributor Danielle Simpfendorfer

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

Space lover, every other morning she flips through iridescent images of interstellar clouds. Those nebulae are hers. She has collected many – Crabs and Orions, even Eagle’s pillars.

Today the Eye of Helix is just coming out on her thigh – fine web of filaments, embedded in a red and slate-blue oval. An older mark on upper arm begins transitioning from purple to the shades of yellow and green. She promises herself to find its alien soulmate tomorrow. Now she must go, and she packs her school bag void with hope. The regions of bright nebulosity are safely hidden under shapeless uniform.

From Guest Contributor Natalia Kay

There once was a girl and she was blue. Everything she saw, thought, and felt was blue. She thought of pink, green and purple, but no luck. Everything was still blue. She thought of how much better things would be in a different color; brighter, warmer, easier. She kept thinking she should change, so that the blue would disappear. She would imagine vibrant turquoise and even bright whites. Then one day she took the plunge. She followed the light; the hope. She walked as far as she could walk. Then she floated. Now things are red. So very, very red.

From Guest Contributor Maureen Ferguson

Rachel held herself tightly and rehashed all the bitter memories. The water soaked into her skin and she wished the gentle lapping would wash away her regrets and better-left-unsaids. Yet her mood only darkened as the wrinkles formed.

She’d rather claim the responsibility. At least then there is hope.

Hernando lowered himself into his chair and began the painful process of unbandaging his feet. The mines took a lot out of him and the thought had crossed his mind many times that surviving might not be worth the effort anymore. He winced at the bloody mess. Even if he’d once been the one lecturing his friends on the need to keep fighting, no matter how small the act of resistance, he was now reaching the end of his resolve.

But if humanity was ever going to win back its freedom from the outerworlders, Hernando could not abandon all hope.

Today’s Story was based on a prompt from Lillie McFerrin Writes.