Featured Writing

Handiwork

by Amy Covel It was Your work You gathered The stone The metal The tools You worked For days For months For years You created Those walls Those floors Those bars And now You live In Your own Prison.  

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Fiction Posts

April Fool’s Day

by Dean Knight The party was on April Fool’s Day, but Daniel had no thoughts of practical jokes. Although Claire had been only sporadically returning his texts recently, tonight, he felt, would be when things would get back on track again. It’s a major step to proceed beyond the first…

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Boomerang and Sadie

by Cynthia Roby Boomerang was Sadie’s man, and he got his name by definition: Every time she threw the lying cheater out, she’d cry, howl, and moan, all before that need-to-satisfy ache in her groin pried her thighs apart and let her Boomer back in—until the dag-gone fool never returned….

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Quite the House

by Carolyn Weisbecker My hand flew to my nose, and I held my breath as I stepped through the doorway. What am I doing here? A foul, but unmistakable odor hung from the ceiling and followed me as I carefully walked through the house. Death, left alone for too long,…

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This Land is Your Land

by Aila Alvina Boyd The temperature was hot and the sun was unforgiving. It was a horrible day to have a graveside service, but nevertheless, events such as that aren’t typically scheduled based on the weather or convenience. It was the first time in nearly 50 years that all of…

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A Man Walks into a Bar

by Robert Barhite I hate cops. I grew up in Postville, Iowa, way up in the northeast corner of the state and not too far from the Mississippi River. Nothing much ever changed in my hometown. I went to the same red brick two story grade school built in 1908…

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The Flood

by Christian Linville It had been brewing for two days. Some news channels had warned about it, and others just mentioned a light sprinkling. But off the shoreline, out toward the water, you could see it coming for yourself if you looked hard enough—the clouds dark and the lighting flashing….

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Birds At Sunrise

by Judith Ford It had started with the sparrows singing in the mock orange bush in her backyard. Anne loved to hear them calling out to the dawn when she’d first open her eyes in her bed, before the sun was all the way up, when there was a gray…

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The Pulpo Hunter

by Steve Force Carola awoke just as dawn was breaking. She could hear Cesar, her husband, on the other side of the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of their one room home. He was moving about in the cooking area. She could smell the strong dark…

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That Face

by Julia M. Washington My people have been farmers since before they came to the states. Mama’s side cultivated grapes, raised cows and produced dairy. Daddy’s side grew food. Farming in some ways was in our blood. When Mama and Daddy married, they moved to California and left farm life…

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Schrodinger’s Cat

by Bob Beach Shift change at the Ford plant was the usual Chinese fire drill. Second shift regulars coming off the line poured out the doors and surged into The Altered State, a boxy little bar and grill just past the parking lot. Ready to rock, they fanned out across…

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