Ties that Bind – by N.E. Rule

The morning sun streams in through the hospital window. I watch its slow ascent up Kevin’s small frame. When it finally dances across his smoke-streaked face, he shoots up with a gasp. The handcuffs clang against the bedrails and yank him back down.

Your Weight on my Shoulders – by Suann Amero

The motor cortex in my brain sends electrical signals through my spinal cord and peripheral nerves to my muscles, causing them to contract. My muscles flex, extend, rotate – on command. I never thought about whether or not my body would do what I wanted it to, until now.

Jim – by Michele Anne-Marie Dickson

A wind gathered and you blew back up into my face, and I was left coughing. Now you’re in my lungs, in my very breath.

Chess moves dance moves bad moves home moves – by Amanda Le Rougetel

Sometimes a pawn, one step and one step only forward; sometimes a knight, rounding a corner for a fresh view; but always the queen at heart, ready to move in any direction for the chance to stake my claim in the game of life.