“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“Point taken.”

Thomas was excited to see Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre. President Lincoln would be attending, and he was overwhelmed with contentment that he’d be there on the same night.

That would be the one and only time I’d see Lincoln.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Six-year-old Monty, a master of his plastic sword, calculates strikes against imaginary giants while he takes cover behind backyard trees. When his mother’s voice pierces through his fantasy, calling him for dinner, the warrior boy marches home victorious.

While cleaning out his garage, Monty finds his plastic sword and wields it again, destroying enemies with a battle cry whoop. The brave boy/man rediscovers his inner sanctuary to face his lackluster world.

From Guest Contributor Leigh-Anne Burley

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.

With your failures your fears your wrong body your clutter your stains your dirty mind and the night you can’t take back and what you shouldn’t have said out loud and what you should’ve said but couldn’t didn’t because you were afraid selfish angry shy and the thing they said that you can’t forget and maybe it is true and the wreck the ruins so much wasted time and you didn’t even call and the way you looked at her even though you knew even after even now and even with those horrible Crocs

you are fine as you are.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook (she/her) is the author of Only Flying, a Pushcart-nominated collection of surreal poetry and flash fiction on paradox, rebellion, transformation, and enlightenment from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won or placed in the top two in contests at Loud Coffee Press, A Story in 100 Words, and most recently, the Pikes Peak Library District 2023 fiction contest. It has been published in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, The Alien Buddha Goes Pop, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and elsewhere. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal and a professor of creative writing Read her work and learn more about Only Flying at https://brook-bhagat.com/.

The muffled voices from outside the closed door play behind every memory. The echoes of arguments filled my ears each night as I fell asleep. The stinging sliding down my face and the taste of salt along my lips fills me with comfort. My frowning face in the bathroom mirror, as I rinse the dried tears from my cheeks, is a clear picture of me. Home is a safe place. I feel safe behind those doors. I feel safe tucked in my bed. I feel safe as I cry myself to sleep. Home is the familiar noise of troubled souls.

From Guest Contributor Selah Mantravadi

Is everything packed?

Good idea.

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.

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

For him the past was a story trove, for me it was a series of embarrassments that woke up and lingered like morning phlegm.

My brother will stay in this town and rise. He’ll talk about how the band played Forever Young at his graduation and he knew he was destined. But who will tell the story of that morning when I woke and wandered?

From Guest Contributor Dave Nash

raise it as if your life depends on it. Your future too.

Shout until you are heard.

From Guest Contributor Marzia Rahman

Marzia is a Bangladeshi fiction writer and translator. Her writings have appeared in several print and online journals. Her novella-in-flash If Dreams had wings and Houses were built on clouds was longlisted in the Bath Novella in Flash Award Competition in 2022.She is currently working on a novella. She is also a painter.