Featured Writing

To Cross A Raging River

By Jim De Marse I walked in the back door and smelled pot roast in the oven with gravy, peas, butter, and rolls on the side. Mom was making the gravy in a saucepan. I said hi, took off my jacket, and hung it on one of the hooks above…

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Short Story Posts

To Cross A Raging River

By Jim De Marse I walked in the back door and smelled pot roast in the oven with gravy, peas, butter, and rolls on the side. Mom was making the gravy in a saucepan. I said hi, took off my jacket, and hung it on one of the hooks above…

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Airplane

Privilege

By David James Driving through North Hollywood, a few months shy of a legal beer, a glance in the rearview mirror suggested a mop of hair more ragged than normal. As thoughts of a haircut began to register, a storefront advertising unisex hairstyling appeared, and right in front of its…

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Car driving in snow

Counting The Ways

By Alan Gartenhaus The thud sent me racing to look out windows closed tightly against frosty north winds. Abandoning my homework, I bolted into the evening’s dark without stopping for a coat. Tire tracks in a fresh dusting of snow led to a car smashed against an oak tree on…

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Chicago

The Whisk

By Jenn Bouchard I hadn’t thought about my ex-girlfriend in years. Now Clara – or Cee, as I called her – was sitting across from me at Cannonball, my restaurant in the River North neighborhood of Chicago. She was there because I had totally messed up her life about two…

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A violin resting on its case outdoors.

The Songs of Lakewood

by J D Francis Woodrow Franklin sat resting, slowly pushing back and forth on an old, wooden bench swing that hung from a rusty chain on the front porch of the tiny cottage. It is where he has lived for thirty-seven years, alone. The bench squeaked and moaned with every…

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A bakery window filled with pastries.

Another Round

by Lisa L. Lynn In Derrick’s younger years as a baker, women and pastry were somehow all of the same dreamlike confection, heady with sugar, alternately cloying and sublime. They were so indelibly coupled that he had often tasted women as rich layers of butter and salt, almond and fruit,…

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An analog clock at 8:10.

8:29 a.m.

by Katie Stavick 8:05 a.m. I shut off the alarm and lay in my bed, contemplating calling in sick. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? I already submitted my notice, which sucked. “It’s not that we don’t like you or think you could handle the job. We know you could. But the person we…

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Two champagne flutes next to a pink flower arrangement.

Champagne and Doubt

by Sara Carey The twinkling lights in the restaurant were beginning to blur together. Emily’s cheeks were warm, her hair falling in soft tendrils around her face. She couldn’t believe she was sitting across such a handsome man, and she knew that she was way out of her league when…

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A closed closet door.

Poohbear & Smokey

by Marc Abbott Gabriel Kenney didn’t intend on adopting Poohbear and Smokey. But his son, Simon, tearfully pleaded with him after hearing that animals who stayed in the pound too long were put to sleep. “A dog and a cat? No, Simon, dogs and cats do not get along. They’re…

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tea cup

Tea For Two

By Alia Weylock The hundreds of miles from Guatemala to Texas play out like a movie in my head. I see my ten-month-old daughter tucked into her papoose against my chest, and my wife Chetta clinging to my arm as we trudged the path to the United States wearily. Chetta is swollen…

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