Todd had always put others before himself, which had brought a sense of well-being and worth when he was young.

Sunlight glinted off steak-knives.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Mona was known for her smile, but really, what was so great about it? Just a slice of smile, nothing big and welcoming. Not a smile with a future in it, more of a flirtatious glance than anything else.

Mary Lee had a big welcoming smile. It had greeted legions of men. It was a smile that had launched many ships, one that let men know that she was available and ready for marriage. Perhaps that had been part of her problem. Men wanted what they couldn’t have. They preferred having their hearts broken over settling down to someone real.

From Guest Contributor Eliza Mimski

Sometimes at night I cling to her hand in the darkness and try to imagine what she’s dreaming.

But most of the time we just watch television.

He’d become accustomed to his trifocals and dentures; took his half-dozen morning pills religiously; prayed for just one more upright day, another day to deal with his rapidly advancing age.

His grandson’s youngest daughter (almost half-way through her troubled, rebellious teens) said, “Don’t worry, Pop-Pop; I can fix you up real good,” and before he knew it they had matching blue hair.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

Ron’s many published works, including his debut chapbook, Fallen Away, can be found HERE.

The steppe beneath me speeds by as I become one with the wind. The monk on my back screams with joy. My hooves kick cotton clouds, and fresh air caresses my muzzle. I gallop toward a light in the distance. My tail flows freely. A small dot appears in the middle of the great plain and gradually becomes larger. A colorful, three-storied pagoda comes into view.

“See that, Rlung-rta? That’s our new home,” the monk says, his voice bouncing with excitement. He grabs my mane as we descend. “We’re reclaiming our faith,” he says with a smile, patting my neck.

From Guest Contributor Toshiya Kamei

Toshiya Kamei holds an MFA in Literary Translation from the University of Arkansas. His translations have appeared in venues such as Clarkesworld, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and Strange Horizons.

“If XXXX (she named the presidential candidate she preferred) gets elected, you can make a wish and I’ll make sure it comes true,” she said and gave him a smile that didn’t leave room for any interpretation.

Unfortunately, the brain tumor hadn’t been noticed yet.

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.

Hannah clutches the picture close to her chest and closes her eyes, a smile on her lips as she envisions her young daughter dancing, her steps light, and the sunshine gleaming on her golden blond hair.

The air is filled with a snowy substance.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The lake has an island that has a church on it with fine black cracks etched all over. It’s the place where disaster originated. Everything else has been declared safe for visitors. The sky is an orange I never experienced before. A smell like the rancid diapers of the spawn of Satan crawls through trees. A fox poses in front of a sign that says NO JEWS AND ANIMALS ALLOWED. Joggers, dog walkers, and parents with strollers slow down as they go past. I catch the expression on their faces, mostly a combination of surprise and puzzlement. Sometimes they smile.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of two new poetry collections, The Death Row Shuffle (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and The Trouble with Being Born (Ethel Micro-Press, 2020).

He was deserted by the sun, forced to sleep at night. He would lay in bed, tossing and turning until the first rays of the sun would fall upon the earth. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, get out of bed and sit in the corner with his face hiding between his knees. Sometimes he would leave his room and wander alone in the silent streets where shadows would chase him into dark alleys. Sometimes he would just look up at the sky, smile and think that at least the moon hasn’t left him yet.

From Guest Contributor Sergio Nicolas

I listened to the sound of the waves smack against the giant ship, closed my eyes and pictured my wife’s face. Her radiant smile and long blond hair made my heart pulsate. Soon we’d be together once we docked in New York, and she’d be waiting for me with open arms and our son. I relished the thought.

Titanic wouldn’t sink.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher