First, there’s a moment when you are just crossing the threshold from complete oblivion, wrapped in blankets and darkness, to reemerge into the light of the living. You are not a person yet. You have no recollections or anxieties. This is probably what it was like right before you were born.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and promise you’re never going to drink again.

“Stay,” I commanded, my palm facing him.

Four years tougher, I returned. There, just as I left him, was Julian. Emaciated and still. The most loyal gimp I ever did have.

From Guest Contributor Liam Kerry

“Excuse me, do you work here?”

“Do you really?”

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.

I before E except after C, unless I’m seeing too much ceiling from under my eiderdown. I turn my eyes in disbelief to my neighbor Keith, who at this moment is receiving eight heifers of various heights and weight. Having been neither seized in some heist nor had any profits forfeited, they are feisty beasts. A brawn of weightlifters, beings made of veiled skeins of protein, caffeine and bulging veins, takes them away, no receipts involved. Afterward, the men reign over steins of beer at their leisure. Weird that it should be so hard to relieve the stress of thievery.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell

The fresh scent of flowers fills the air with sweetness. Diana takes a deep breath and relishes the moment, strolling through the park listening to the children play and the birds sing, the warm breeze against her face. She finds a bench, sits, puts her reading glasses on, and takes out her book. She takes a sip of water and begins reading, enthralled in the story, content with the sun on her face, when the cell phone rings.

Diana closes the novel, rushes to the car, and drives to the hospital to say goodbye to her father, her only family.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Which way do I go? Delirious, I have no idea. Lost, walking in the desert, hot, tired, and thirsty, my lips dry and cracked, I crumble to the ground from exhaustion.

I’m home.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Willow loved the flowers.

Yellow lilies sprouted from breaks in old, torn tree bark. Hydrangeas shot up from the ground so beautifully. Willow waited with anticipation and baited breath as grass grew. She watched every moment of it. As tiny white tips sprouted from the dirt, oh joy of joys, the beginning was so exciting! Then, the tiny blades raised up to the sun, and Willow screamed with excitement. She couldn’t contain her joy. She watched impatiently as the leaves turned from green, to yellow, to orange, then brown. The moss grew over Willow’s feet. Oh, to be a tree.

From Guest Contributor Eliana Diaz

Eliana is an English literature and visual art major at UCCS. She is a feature artist in the 50th edition of Riverrun. She is a large fan of mythology, fantasy, and other make-believe.

Mother Spider began to sing, and a harmony of words awoke the web of memories. I searched for that moment of allure in those endless dark trees when she first spoke. There were so many expressions on my tongue, but I couldn’t remember them all.

I learned everything from Mother Spider, as did all the other spiders who heard her voice long before the flood of darkness fell and created those endless woods.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Visiting a mountain top. The experience made me realize that time and rocks seem to stand still for a while. Far off view showing a mountain range haven been beaten smooth with time. Rugged edges of the stones reminded me that here, at least, the stones were sharp and not dull. From lack of water. For water makes everything smooth. Without the rain. The area was semi aired and contained the smell of earth. Making the entire experience surreal for a moment. Making me think of the adventure of the Hobbits and wizards and such. An adventure on a mountaintop.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Every moment, Tom aspires to be like the stars in the sky, shining and bright. But laziness strikes over and it’s always a procrastination. But there are life changing moments, aren’t there?

Tom passed away. Today Ann runs a cancer treatment hospital in his name. She started writing poetry, especially about diseases. Ann helped Tom, so now wasn’t it Tom’s turn to help Ann from above?

From Guest Contributor Jesna Maria Jose