He received a large order to carpet an entire wall: that meant working late at the light tannery, in the other room. He looked at the skyscrapers at the far end of the room where he was now, but it could be done. He had to get to the other room, where the flowers grew: once the stem was cut, the stone inside reacted chemically with the local oxygen, then melted into spots of light whose original texture was much like a tongue’s. He sighed, thinking about his life. What he really enjoyed was preparing chlorophyll manually, on the piano.

From Guest Contributor Angelo Colella

The witch stared into the candlelight. The darkness and tempest outside would strengthen her spell, To Make Him Love You More. He wasn’t home yet, now was her chance to cast it.

Decided, the witch chanted.

From Guest Contributor Soleah Kenna Sadge

Soleah is a fantasy writer. You can learn more about her and her writings by visiting https://linktr.ee/sksadge

The painting of the woman holding a baby close, swaddled in a white blanket, is meticulous. Her long unkempt hair is covering her face, and a man leaning over has his hands gently placed on each of her shoulders. The mother’s tear drop gives off a somber scene; however, the colorful blue background breaks the bleakness.

Sarah packed her supplies and, satisfied, left the room with a sensation of stares.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Brianne gently swung the bassinet humming a lullaby. It had been in her family for years and it was her turn to place a baby in it.

It was time to tell him about the miscarriage.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Are you addicted to chocolate? Creamy on the tongue. Eat it all you want, whenever you want it. Secretly in your room, for you and nobody else. Life’s hard. Chocolate melting in your mouth makes you whole. Briefly.

Briefly.

From Guest Contributor Amita Basu

Amita is a graduate student of cognitive science. Her fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in The Right-Eyed Deer, Gasher, St. Katherine Review, Star 82 Review, Proem, Muse India, and Dove Tales. Her nonfiction has appeared in Countercurrents and Deccan Herald. She has finished a collection of literary short stories, and is working on a mystery novel about art. She lives in Bangalore, India.

Timothy wants a brother for Christmas.

In Bangladesh, a little boy has a happy holiday.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

We were invited to a silent room filled with melting glaciers. I just stood there, part of the system, but vulnerable in a way peculiar to men who are naked except for their socks and shoes. I’m constantly creating problems that never even existed. I have to walk really, really carefully or there’ll be more cats than people around. After we’re dead, it’s another story: Cosimo de Medici once complained to Michelangelo, “That sculpture doesn’t look like me.” “Listen,” Michelangelo said, “you’ll be dead in 20 years, this will be around for 2,000 years. So, that’s what you look like!”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of Spooky Action at a Distance from Analog Submission Press.

Around nine O’clock at night, mother returned from work. She was exhausted. She had been working all day. She had brought doughnuts with her for her son. She put the bag of doughnuts in the kitchen and went upstairs to see him. The door of his room was cracked open. She opened the door carefully not to wake him up. She saw him sleeping. He was looking like an angel while sleeping. She went inside and stood there near the bedside for a while looking at his son. She leaned down and kissed her son’s forehead and left the room.

From Guest Contributor Sergio Nicolas

Molly opened the door to her new antique shop and breathed in the freshly painted room. She sold everything from refurbished wood furniture, candles and lotions among other products. Family and friends begged her not to buy the building that was a torture chamber in the early 1800s. Rumor had it that past owners heard screams and footsteps, but she didn’t believe it.

On her last day, Molly locked the door for the final time. When she turned for one last look, a figure waved from the window.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Elsie opens the window and the warm breeze enters the room. She sits next to William holding his hand, remembering.

Elsie’s eyes begin to water, and she wonders why dementia has taken her young love.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher