Short story from David Douglas

Summer Carousel

The last ride on the carousel, on the last day of summer, was the most anticipated for the four Bender children – Anson, the eldest and his brother Phillip, along with their two younger sisters, Anya and Phoebe. Anson paid the carousel operator the usual four dollars for each of them. And with the money they saved all summer, the ride was all their own.

Around and around, the multi-colored lights streaked in a three dimensional circle. They laughed and laughed on mythical creatures – up and down, up and down. The carousel spun faster and faster until the lights disappeared into a fourth dimensional sphere. 

When the ride was over, their laughter faded but something fantastic altered their glee. The carousel operator was gone. He was replaced by someone else with a big, bushy mustache. They turned to see the Opening Day banner at the main entrance of the carnival. It was the beginning of summer – just like they had planned. They could relive all their summer dreams. But as they walked through the crowds, everyone was finely dressed. Phoebe said they all looked like they were going to a wedding. The finely dressed people looked at the children’s strange attire. Several commented that Phillip was in his undergarments. When they reached the parking lot, all the cars were gone – the parking lot was gone. Instead, the street was lined with horses and buggies. 

Phillip, Anya and Phoebe all gaped at Anson for an answer. 

“Where are we?” Anya asked as her deep, dark eyes widen.

Anson thought for a moment. A deep, dark moment as if he fell into one of the carousel mirrors that became a pool of water only to be pulled out by the carousel operator. It was a moment that felt like all summer. Finally, after a nudge from his brother, he stated as he exited his trance-like state, “Not where?”

Phillip and Anya focused on their older brother with a voltage-like shock.

Phoebe tugged at his cargo shorts and asked with her soft, brown eyes, “When do we eat?”

Poetry from Driss Boukili El Hassani

You… Are the Homeland of My Heart

You… yes, you,

Whenever you are absent from me, my lady,

I kindle a lantern of longing

upon the balconies of the clouds,

and I send my heart away,

a little boat

sailing across every horizon,

making its way toward your eyes,

searching every path

through mist and silence.

You are the heartbeat of my life…

And in your absence,

minutes stretch into endless years,

and the night becomes

a desert of waiting,

or a sky veiled with drifting clouds,

where nothing blossoms

except your gentle name,

guiding my soul like a sacred light.

Then, when your voice whispers,

springs of radiance burst forth within my spirit,

and upon the eyelashes of my heart

the golden ears of joy and serenity begin to dance,

while the universe once more

chants love’s most beautiful names.

So remain…

just as you are:

a moon no passing years

can ever dim,

a promise no length of time

can ever betray.

For you alone

are the poem that never reaches its final verse,

the homeland of my soul,

and the harbor

where every wave of peace finds its rest.

Driss Boukili El Hassani

Morocco

Dr. Natalia Bisso announces international literary competitions open for entry

1. Attention: (Germany + Russian-speaking authors and visual artists from different countries of residence where there are no NOBLE LAUREATE AWARD Committees).

——————————————

OFFICIAL APPLICATION REQUEST

The WORLD

New World Laureate Award COMMITTEE

is proud to announce the establishment of

THE NOBLE LAUREATE AWARD

Award categories

, Literature – Poetry

, Literature – Prose

, Fine art

We sincerely invite poets, writers and artists from all over the world to participate in this unique international exhibition.

Design requirements

For authors

Please send a request:

Full name (or alias)

A country

Profile photo (in high resolution)

The biography is written in the third person

Links confirming your literary activity

List of published books

Critical reviews, articles, or interviews (if any)

Literary awards, honorary degrees, titles, memberships, and other notable achievements

————————-

For visual artists 

Please send:

Full name (or artistic pseudonym)

A country

Profile photo (in high resolution)

A biography written in the third person

Links confirming your creative career

List of exhibitions

Critical reviews, articles, or interviews (if any)

Awards, honorary titles, membership in the organization and other professional achievements

The presence of a published monograph is desirable, but not necessary.

—————————–

Application procedure

All application materials must be submitted:

as 1 Microsoft Word document (.doc or .docx),

with a profile photo attached as a separate image file, by e-mail to the National Award Committee of the applicant’s country.

Applicants are also encouraged to post links to interviews, documentaries, lectures, or short presentation videos showcasing their literary or artistic work.

Make sure that there is no such committee in your country.

THE DEADLINE FOR SUBMITTING APPLICATIONS IS OCTOBER 1.

(Clarification – this is not a competition, this is the whole creative path and activity of the author.

Dr. Natalie Bisso – President of the National (German) and Transnational Committee (in countries where there are no Award committees); Chairman of the National and Transnational Award Committee; official contact person for submitting applications.

Email:

natalirubisso@mail.ru

Additional explanations on the Application form in the clip:

_________________________

2. At the moment, the ILAST/ MLATT Association is holding a Friedrich Schiller literary competition, the acceptance of works ends on August 20.

The terms of the competition can be found here:

FB: https://www.facebook.com/groups/540040781692174/permalink/1053369007026013/

____________________________________

3. An offer for interested authors to join the International Literary Association “Creative Tribune” (MLATT/ILACT).

Links to get acquainted with the work of the Association:

 ILA group  “Creative Tribune” — FB: https://www.facebook.com/groups/540040781692174

Official website ILAST/ MLATT:

https://sites.google.com/view/ilact/главная

Those interested can contact the secretariat at: anamay05@mail.ru

or to the President of the Association: natalirubisso@mail.ru

Candidates for membership will be sent a questionnaire to fill out.

Poetry from Priyanka Neogi

Strict

Can you hold your own interpretation when the words become whip!

Let there be a silent void where the sound is a wall.

Candid confessions to trap lies,

Don’t indulge in lies in the back of your mind,

Doubtful in an epic story of how many solutions.

If one strength has to be stay to go,

However, let the thoughts of the mind remain unbroken within the walls of the mind.

A great insistence of great significance in discovering fruit.

Date: 08.08.2026

Amb. Dr. Priyanka Neogi is from Coochbehar. She is an administrative controller of United Nations’ PAF, a librarian, a CEO of Lio Messi International Property & Land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international co-ordinator of the Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.

Poetry from Danijela Ćuk

MY DREAM

I know…

Perhaps it’s only just a dream of mine,

a silent wish that one day there will shine

a world where every war will finally cease,

and pain and darkness disappear in peace.

I dreamed of smiling children full of light,

of love-filled homes and streets both warm and bright,

of happiness reflected in the sun above,

of souls at rest, surrounded by pure love.

I saw the goodness hidden in each heart,

people embracing life in every part,

where no one cares about your name or race,

but sees the beauty carried by your grace.

I felt sincere embraces, warm and true,

when one extends a helping hand to you,

and friends who always stand by one another’s side,

untouched by greed or envy born of pride.

I breathed the love of such a wondrous place,

where everyone can find their rightful space,

a world where no one causes pain or strife,

a world untouched by violence in life.

Then I opened my eyes…

Ah, it was only just a lovely dream,

but will there come a day when all will see

that wars destroy the beauty life imparts,

and only what comes from the soul lives in our hearts?

Essay from Sunday David Kokoette

Most civilizations that ever thrived under the sun preserved and even transferred their history through an art called writing, from the Egyptian hieroglyphs to the Ibibio’s Nsibidi, these people used their art to record significant events, convey coded messages and inscribe their existence on the sands of time. Since then, the pen has always been some force if you like, philosophers and quote giants have asserted that the “pen is mightier than the sword”. Civilizations where the pen has moved the polity abounds in history. It was because of the pen and its force and binding authority that European powers sat amongst themselves and shared the continent signing formulated treatises that allows them to exploit these colonies. It was because of the pen, and its force that Martin Luther broke out from the corrupted mother catholic church protesting with his Protestants. It was because of the pen and its force that we have the honour of enjoying the melodious lingua franca of Shakespeare which holds heavier meanings and connotations than contemporary English language. The writer is the record keeper of every civilization, every movement towards change and comfort have always been sparked by the force of the pen, so the poets, playwrights and lyrics writers are the train that conveys people towards this steady movement towards change and comfort. Sometimes, the movement might be stressful. Nicoloio Machiavelli gave the Prince a blueprint, a guide on governance and leadership, even though the end justifies the means, the price may be too big to pay. The force of the pen is the reason why America thriived as a civilization.

In societies bedridden by decadence and impunity, the pen could be the only doctor capable of  healing the society of these decadence. These privilege is only available to the curious minded, the man that seeks for solution in the midst of chaos, anarchy and injustice. Just hindsight can give a man a measurable amount of knowledge required to solve a problem. My comparison of men have compelled me to place him under two umbrellas which are:

1. The man who reads
2. The man who doesn’t

The man who reads is considered an elite, like a computer updates itself, this man has become aware, not just of himself but of his environment as well as its problems. This is seen in his demeanor and probably action, but this may be subject to his environment as the famous saying that says. “When one is in Rome, one is required to behave like a Roman”.

The man who doesn’t read is like a clone, a blind follower who has refused to think for itself as a species but rather steps in the footprints of failure and the darkness of being outdated. The most notable trait among such men is their tendency to create problems and hard times.

Conclusion
The pen and its force are the pillars of every society, it may not be popular but underestimating its impact and value might be a very big mistake, like missing your Queen on a chessboard.