May 30th – By Sean Sundquist
Flash Fiction / December 27, 2009

that saying “April showers, bring May flowers.”   May 12th My life is under control once again. I’m happy. This brand new baby boy is the light of my life. He’s my first, and I wish it could have only happened sooner. His smile allows me to forget past troubles. His face portends a brighter future. His eyes shine from unrestrained optimism. May 22nd The way he giggles fills my soul with hope. My existence has changed. I have purpose. He is purpose. In times of dread I absorb his innocence for courage. He’s what drives me. He’s why I am. October 1st Can anyone admit their fear of death? Is it because of religion that they don’t? Because it terrifies the hell out of me. It terrifies me that it could happen at anytime. It terrifies me that science has no explanation for what may happen to who we are after death. It terrifies me that I will only know once I die. It terrifies me that there could be nothingness… October 4th I have come to the realization that I will never be complete. If I have become complete the world is in peace, there is no longer…

In the eye of the beholder – By Rosemary Bach-Holzer
Offbeat Writings / December 27, 2009

Remember those prints called “Magic Eye” that were so hip and of the moment a few years back? They looked like leftover wallpaper from the early seventies except they hid a treasure chest full of three-dimensional (3D) surprises and the key in which to unlock them was held in your very own hands. Or, should I say eyes? The trick was to stare at them until your eyes became so tired they would cross and only then the picture hidden amongst the psychedelically painted lines and waves would become visible. The facial expressions pulled in order to unmask these artistic delights – in addition to the stupid grin of expectant pleasure at what was unveiling before your very eyes emulating in a cross between Marty Feldman and a halfwit – was something best done in the privacy of your own home. It wasn’t possible to step outside without stumbling upon a vendor flogging them on the pavement. How street traders managed to retire to sunnier climes on the proceeds of these sales still leaves me totally mystified. I was searching for inspiration for my column… anything… even just a hint of something. No such luck. I sat and stared and…

Circles – By T. Paul Buzan
Flash Fiction / December 20, 2009

On some nights in the lambent, moonlit air shadows of tall pines and burial mounds seem to dance and move volitionally all along the mountain. They tumble and chase one another like children or young animals at play. There are stories that tell of those who long ago tended the warning beacons for which this mountain is named now wandering here after death – restless spirits waiting to be reborn. On nights when the shadows tumble and dance the stories could be true. It is late summer. At dawn the sky still breaks against the mountain in waves of pale blue mist. The sun emerges and the waves of mist recede, drawn in to wait again for nightfall when once more they will flow upon the mountain’s face in an azure tide. From the vanishing darkness a rooster’s crow heralds the momentary triumph of a new day. The clattering of my alarm clock shatters the sleep that surrounds me and I surface from a dream. Lying in bed I struggle to guard from marauding consciousness the fading apparition of a girl who is at once both as strange and remote to me as a fairy kingdom and the sum of…

Parlez-vous Deutsch? – By Rosemary Bach-Holzer
Offbeat Writings / December 6, 2009

As a language, German doesn’t do it for me. I think it’s both ugly and guttural. I didn’t speak German as a child despite growing up in a household consisting of one parent originating from north London and the other, Berlin. I might look upon it more favourably if I could speak it. I’m just miffed because I can’t. My vocal dexterity is fair to some my written German is non-existent I can write my name and that’s your lot. Although, funnily enough, I find songs sung in German aren’t half as assaulting on the ears… now if I could just get German-speaking people to go around singing all the time. Would make for some interesting moments at the petrol station, supermarket and bank. Asking to deposit £100.00 in a verse from Like a Virgin. Now French. French is a pretty language. While holidaying or living in France, you can get away with pointing and arms gesticulating only up to a point. You can do the honking goose thing only so far. Sooner or later you are going to have to speak their language. The French are known for being unforgiving if you don’t speak French. Doesn’t matter if they…