To Flame, To Flee – by Jay McKenzie

I have been chosen because I can move silently with my nimble feet not yet weighted by adulthood, though tonight, I feel clumsy

Stowaway – by Mel Andela

“Quick, to the bathroom.” Lena waves her hand, though I am right behind her. “Can you keep it quiet when we go by mom’s door?”

To The Alps – by Andrew Shaughnessy

“What about him?” he asked, nodding toward the stuffed toy giraffe sitting in the plush green velour chair across the table from Sarah. “Doesn’t he have a ticket?”

Tiny Smuggler – by N.E. Rule

“You’ve already searched me and found nothing,” Sam says.

Her Best Friend’s Guy – by N.E. Rule

The final pic, October 31st, has the caption “He’ll be the death of me.” The photo is a close-up of Stephanie’s face.

Avocados and Ambulances – by Sarah Elise Pettigrew

Listening to Morgan playing through her pieces, I began to feel that familiar jealousy creepy into my stomach.

Split – by Jay McKenzie

She looks beyond the fire to the flat surface of the lake. There is little in the way of moon and stars tonight, but lights from the lodge on the opposite shore glimmer on the water’s skin. In her eyes, the dancing amber flames ripple.

Ditchmoss – by Andrew Shaughnessy

On the day in question, the four seniors, packing cellophane bags of caramel corn, presented themselves at the circus tent early to take their seats in the back row of the floor section adjacent to the centre ring. A family of four was in the front row, trying to settle twin four-year-old boys each seized with fear at being so close to the action. Hank studied the scene as if this were one of the circus acts.

Weary Willie – by Bethany Bruno

The band leader saw the flame first, signaling his musicians to begin playing “Stars and Stripes Forever,” or what circus folk used in code for “emergency.”

Fair Field Gate – by Eric Janzen

Yet afterwards he seemed to slip away as though the world had become too much for him. How could she have left him there?