Marie stared in the mirror, her azure eyes gazed lovingly at slender curves. She shook her head wafting strands of dark hair about her waist. A grey tracksuit clung to her physique mounted above designer trainers.

At the summit she perceived a clear pond. Therein, beyond the sea creatures’ majesty and waves of seaweed, perfection shone back. Fixated, even when the tide came in.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

I write my worries in the sand. They stretch across the beach, one after another. I shake as I write them – the pain intense. Finally, I finish. I walk away from them and sit down on the dry sand above the tide line to wait. The waves rush in, lapping over the words, washing them away. The tension leaves my shoulders as the sand smooths out, but the pain is still there. Will death wash away aches like the tide waters? Will I become smooth like the sand as I wash out into the eternal sea of the next horizon?

From Guest Contributor Tyrean Martinson

Tyrean is a daydreamer, believer, and writer from the Pacific Northwest.

There were more than twenty people in the crowd a little distance away from where I was standing. I shouted, but none could hear. A huge rolling tide swept me, I was choking. I could not feel anything.

Next morning, I went to an analyst and asked him the meaning of this dream. He said, “You indeed had a very stressful day.”

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.