“Dancing with the Queen” by S. Douglas Hosdale

“That’s Datura—Queen of the Night.” Raphael was pointing at a large tree filled with big, cream-colored, bell-shaped flowers . . .

“Sea Change” by Nancy M. Michael

She stood in the shelter of the doorway of the Chicago Yacht Club, watching as the sky darkened and clouds enveloped and erased the tops of the skyscrapers . . .

“Sunday Smack” by Valda Moore

This Sunday morning seems different for some reason . . .

“The Clown Nose” by Stephanie Laterza

“The kids are full of sugar,” Martin’s teacher announces at pickup time. “They had cupcakes for Kyle’s birthday.”

I suppose this explains why my son and his toddler cohorts are roadrunning around the classroom and catapulting off the low leather couches . . .

“In the Kitchen” by Josh Krigman

The floor was covered with Timothy’s blood when Maurice came down the steps from the dining room to see how things were moving along . . .

“The Hive” by Elaina Acosta Ford

You tiptoe through the dark labyrinth of the Hive until you reach the tiny room where you’ve spent every Thursday night for the last couple of months toiling away to no avail. The stench of Gouda, Kathleen’s patchouli, and the tang of potentially unfulfilled dreams waft through the air. A metal chair screeches against the gray linoleum when you pull it out, causing everyone to gawk at you. Kathleen rolls her eyes but does not relent. The weak smile spreading across your face fades as you remind yourself that this is the last time you’re going to see these people—your people. You promise yourself that you won’t sip wine or munch crackers or make small talk when this is all over. Saying goodbye is hard enough without all the empty calories and tedious chatter. You swear to yourself this is going to be the last time you pay to play. Your pocketbook and soul can’t take it anymore.

“To My Pregnant Belly” by Tatiana Lopez

I look at my belly in the mirror, swollen to the size of a basketball at seven months pregnant . . .

“Superman” by Darryl Graff

I was born in 1962 in Stuyvesant Town, a middle-class housing development located on the East Side of Manhattan. When I was young, I used to see an older kid who rode his ten-speed bicycle through the neighborhood. He always wore a Superman costume, and he steered the bicycle with his feet, with his hands always high over his head and his red Superman cape flapping in the wind behind him . . .