Hunting Does Not Exist
I was thinking about whether or not it’s okay to hunt today, and something occurred to me: hunting doesn’t really exist. The word creates separation from the reality that it’s being used to describe.
“Your flowers, my garden”
by Clover Estrada Part One. The scars that trace down my skin,past my shoulders and down my backto my arms, to my arms, to my arms – They leave reflections … Continue Reading “Your flowers, my garden”
“Chisato Moritaka’s Lesson #1”
by James Sullivan September heat endures the classroom’s rotating fan. Sticky warmth travels the room in coiling currents, slicking pupils’ skin against uniforms. They are bored. The teacher’s entreaties blow … Continue Reading “Chisato Moritaka’s Lesson #1”
“Balcony” – Microfiction March Madness Contest HONORABLE MENTION
by Caneel Cheskin My prince guided me onto the balcony. Above, the dark sky hid behind wispy clouds. Orchestral music floated through the air. He bowed, offering me his hand. … Continue Reading “Balcony” – Microfiction March Madness Contest HONORABLE MENTION
“The Night Worker (The D Train)” – Microfiction March Madness Contest HONORABLE MENTION
by Richard P. Mayer Punching a tattered time card, robotically, her life is completed in small portions each night. She is a time-worn book nearing its final chapter, faded with … Continue Reading “The Night Worker (The D Train)” – Microfiction March Madness Contest HONORABLE MENTION
“A Blue Light on the Ceiling; A Cold Vein in My Arm” – Microfiction March Madness Contest WINNER
by Christopher Palmer Distorted and pale, projected on the ceiling. The familiar, warm buzzsaw sound. The feeling already starting to leave my hands. “Hello?” “Oh, hey.” “Yeah.” “Yeah, I’m just … Continue Reading “A Blue Light on the Ceiling; A Cold Vein in My Arm” – Microfiction March Madness Contest WINNER
“Learning the Hard Way”
by Felix Imonti In memory of my wife, Yukiko. She made my writing possible by managing so many of the trivial problems of life. Meeting Joyce just seemed to happen. … Continue Reading “Learning the Hard Way”
The CONN
by K.P. Taylor It was twilight in Holly Hills, and the streetlights had just come on, followed by a low, rhythmic humming. Disconcerting at first, the sound was gradually lost … Continue Reading The CONN
Return Policy
by Roberto Ontiveros Laina was not the kind of klepto that ever got caught, or rather: I was the only one who noticed the fountain pens behind her ears when … Continue Reading Return Policy
Acquaintances
by David Sapp Don’t get me wrong. I am generally content with the inhabitants of my life – those close to me. However, occasionally, I prefer the company of chance … Continue Reading Acquaintances
“NEW YEAR’S EVE,” “BODY AND SOUL,” “JANUARY DREAM,” and “THE LAST HOUSE YOU LIVED IN”
by Mark Jackley “NEW YEAR’S EVE” Upon inventing the puzzle, our forebears left the garden, searching for answers, oddly shaped pieces of the picture. Tonight, uncounted snowflakes land on cars, … Continue Reading “NEW YEAR’S EVE,” “BODY AND SOUL,” “JANUARY DREAM,” and “THE LAST HOUSE YOU LIVED IN”
A Satisfying Failure
by David Sapp Every Thanksgiving morning on the Gambier farm, while the women bustled about the warm kitchen in floured aprons over flowered print dresses, hips bumping at countertops, chairs … Continue Reading A Satisfying Failure
Thoughts
Do I love her? Why can’t God or the universe or whatever exists let me know what I should be doing? I need to go to the gym more. Could I love her? Could I run and run and run into something else?
“Little Elegy,” “Kansas, 1950 “Dirge,” and “Nunc Dimmittus”
by Don Thompson “Little Elegy” Last night I found her name Listed in the catalog Of dead sisters. Just one of many—so many. Touching it, my finger burned, My tongue … Continue Reading “Little Elegy,” “Kansas, 1950 “Dirge,” and “Nunc Dimmittus”
Certainty—Certainly Not
everything. I didn’t like being an arrogant prick all the time. I saw how I’d been—how far from myself (from that little inner Jiminy Cricket voice) I’d strayed. And I realized that I didn’t need to be that person anymore. So, I started to acknowledge that I didn’t know everything.
“Stalled,” “The Familiar,” and “The Visitation”
by Jeanne Julian “Stalled” Once, I was corralled into competing against other tense and giddy youthful thespians delivering emotive monologues. Mid- recitation— mental block. Suspense. Voice stopped, choked by … Continue Reading “Stalled,” “The Familiar,” and “The Visitation”