He was my life, my armor, my smile, my savior, my everything. Lost him! I Will never see him again. I’m sad, grief stricken, but not devastated. I did my best, was there for him with everything required to always keep him going. I did love him more than anybody else and we shared the same feeling. He loved me more than anybody else. His kisses I miss. I don’t cry but long for him secretly. All day I laugh, I’m merry with my toddler. The moment I close my eyes he’s there waiting for me.

I sleep more now…

From Guest Contributor Manmeet S Chadha

Three-year-old Hannah placed a reindeer ornament on the Christmas tree while her mother put on the sparkling red star topper. The tree with its colorful lights lit up the room.

Hannah’s mother touched her face and smiled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The statue of young Buddha had been an exemplar of serenity when first placed under the tree. Time had passed. Wars had come and gone. Nutrients and sun had been converted into growth by the woody plant’s armoury of respiration and generative processes.

Her tinkling laughter wasn’t malicious.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

We hoped the bad dog was gone. We couldn’t put off seeing our daughter’s family in upstate New York but they had a mean pit bull who they said was as gentle and loved kids.

“Isn’t my Bruno cute?” She said. “He’s smiling at you.”

From Guest Contributor Paul Beckman

It was shocking to find the moon to be just as Joey had always seen her in paintings: the pointy chin, drooping lids and blue glitter eyelashes, the silver curlicue smile. Cold as it was, she smelled like steaming milk, and the look in her eyes was warm and vast, outside and inside at the same time. She was almost two-dimensional, but he knew she had room for him. He climbed on, nestled his knees into the hollow under her bottom lip, hooked a hand around the bridge of her nose, and fell asleep in the pillow of her cheek.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

After graduating with a BA in English from Vassar College, Brook landed her first paid writing job as a reporter for a small-town Colorado newspaper. She left it to travel to India, where she fell in love, got married and canceled her ticket home. She and her husband Gaurav write freelance articles for dozens of publications, including Outpost, Ecoworld and Little India. In 2013, they launched www.BluePlanetJournal.com, which she edits and writes for. She also teaches writing at a community college, is earning her MFA in Writing at Lindenwood University, and is writing a novel.

Astronaut Eric Shaffer sighed as he looked out the window. Venus was rapidly receding away, its surface invisible beneath the yellowish cloud layer that gave it that distinctive color. How he longed to see the blue of Earth again.

Shaffer gave a sad smile. It was time for the long journey home. A journey taken for nothing but a short glimpse. Yet, he decided, it was worth it.

From Guest Contributor Matthew Kresal

Will you wait for me? I was distracted in the company of voices. Remembered you when I realized the time.

When you see me, your eyes smile. For you know I understand your art of pantomime.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her fiction and poetry have recently been published online and in journals at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Words, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories. Her nonfiction has appeared in flash fiction chronicles and in Wild Lands Advocate. Krystyna resides in Alberta, Canada.

He always smiled when she appeared. Today, he also winked.

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. Her recent work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories and espresso stories.

Gerald curled his hands around his coffee, coveting the warmth to be found there. Sabrina wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, lingering long enough to give him a squeeze, before she hurried back to the kitchen. He took a moment to look at the faces of those around him and realized he wasn’t the only one who was cold and exhausted. But they would be back out there searching as soon as their cups were empty, and so would Gerald.

He kept his smile to himself. He may have been cold, but at least his son wasn’t among the missing.

He waves from across the street, leaving, working nights again. Smiling, I return his wave. She watches him from the doorway, my gaze goes unnoticed.

Sure, I’ll keep an eye on the place while you’re on graveyard shift. My pleasure.

From Guest Contributor Mirshaan.

Mirshaan has a BFA in Education. He loves words.