She can feel it slowly growing. All in existence is born of thought. It starts slow and deep, pounding, hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Expectations lead to disappointment, which inevitably gives birth to resentment. Everything buried from years past mutated into fertile embryonies, vibrating, taking on a life of their own.

As March’s end nears, thoughts of isolation waver. A new world awaits those who are willing to embrace its damp offerings. Fruitful grounds to transplant the seeds vaulted away, protecting them from winter’s crystalline grasp. New vessels to transport thoughts. Pollinating all those she will touch.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

I had just gotten an invitation to a special meal at Cafe Shi. For those who do not know it. Look it up. Best readers, writers, thinkers in the multiverse, a place to eat and listen to stories that would make your hair curl.

Seemed rather odd a thermonuclear war would end humanity.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

I feel warmth from looking at the hydrated light glistening on the soft petals of the daisy. I also feel cold from observing the water droplets slowly slipping off of those same petals as they struggle to keep their grip. The daisy, once a seed, now a flower. She contains just as much life as she did hidden in the soil. I know the daisy will not be here forever. I know I will not be here forever. I know you will not be here forever. One day the daisy will be pushed; dead. As every other daisy before it.

From Guest Contributor Winter Daisy

Winter is an author that has a deep desire to make a difference. To read more from them go to https://linktr.ee/winterdaisy.

It was the end of the American Century, and as if at a secret signal, the streets suddenly filled up with dancing grannies. I looked in their doll-like painted faces for an explanation. What I saw instead were suicide nets, abortions by wire coat hanger, piles of broken bricks. Life in our little town was becoming more and more like life elsewhere – a movie trailer for the Apocalypse. I would shake my head in an attempt to get rid of the eerie images, but every morning children would once again be walking past the slaughterhouse on their way to school.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest and scheduled for publication in summer 2022.

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

I see you and think of stars but they are just stones. I think of you as Moon but it has scars. Maybe Sun but it is just a fireball. A stream of water is what you are off course, your fun never ends. A flower at times, I know your trace is always here and like a flower shall have a small life. You are like my guardian always helping me in this nonsense world, insensitive to blind. You fly, run, cry, have fun. Let me tell you once and for all, you are one of a kind, Bitch!

From Guest Contributor Manmeet Chadha

Manmeet is an Alumunus from the London School of Economics & Political Science. He works in India as an Economist & Writer. He can be reached at http://linkedin.com/in/manmeet-chadha-8b606924

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

If only her mom knew what’s going on in Lucy’s life.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

I scramble the room for the file. Many lives depend on the information, including mine. When I accepted this job, I knew the risks involved and didn’t care. Now I just want to go back to my life.

The Nazi’s didn’t catch me. Not this time.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Honey, it’s time to go, Dad said. It was dark by the time they arrived home. Of course, he was right. He was always right. Had been 50 years ago, and every day of her life. It used to be frustrating, but now it was calming and reassuring. Rock solid, steady and consistent, never flashy. Feeble now, he spent most of the day in bed, save for an hour phone call every day. She cherished those calls ending with gotta go and a dial tone. His last call ended with Honey, it’s time to go. Goodbye. And he was right.

From Guest Contributor N.T. 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.

Those looking in from the outside viewed her as strong, smart, someone who had control of her life and never lost it. That was true, she never did lose itーbecause she never gave anyone the chance. Those looking in only saw her as the one who always came out on top, but that was because they never saw who she left on the bottom to get there. Leaving before she could be left, keeping everyone at arm’s length, abandoning ship the moment she felt herself losing control. But no one ever saw how lonely it was; always leaving, always running.

From Guest Contributor Kelsey Swancott

Kelsey is a graduate of St. John Fisher College, majoring in English, with a concentration in writing while also being an editor in the campus literary magazine Angles.She is furthering her education by attending SUNY Brockport for her master’s in English, specializing in creative writing. Following graduation, she is interested in working in the editing and publishing field.

A child’s world view is often slanted, by life’s gifts he often took for granted.

Having paid over again at a magnanimous cost, will I regain that which I know I have lost?

From Guest Contributor Christopher Baker