Featured Writing

Nightfall

by George Freek The sparrow builds her nest,but the wren sleeps in it.The world’s a nasty place,even for the human race.Stars fade on a bleak night,Stars fade on a bleak night,and December windsnose through the streetslike hungry swine,searching for scraps to eat.The moon climbs the sky,like a curtain on a…

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Short Story Posts

Still in the Driver’s Seat

by Ariella Neulander “Shall we take my Prius?” suggests my daughter. She thinks I don’t know why she’s asking, but I do. And I won’t have it. It’s bad enough that she’s decided to come with me to my doctor appointment; she’s not going to take over the driving too….

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The Method

by Robert Steward Lisbon, Portugal 2003 “Um bilhete de volta para Cacém, se faz favor,” I said to the man in the railway station ticket office. “Cacém?” he asked, tapping away on his computer. He had a Benfica football badge on the lapel of his blue jacket. “Sim,” I replied. Next…

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The Farm Hand

By: Patrick R. Roden There was a dense, low hanging fog forming on the grounds of the Maine State Prison in Thomaston. This time of year, late fall, was notorious for such occurrences. In a few weeks time, this entire lawn would be covered with blankets of fresh snow, but…

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Ernie and the Small Pink Roses

By: Joyce Kiefer When Ernie stopped to shift his pack on his long walk from the bus stop, he noticed the low fence that circled the house on the opposite corner. The way the rising sun angled in on that fence, man, he could see it was blazing with little…

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Crimson Snow

By: Adir E. Golan Maery MacTauthenach followed the fading footprints that stained the snow crimson. With each step the snow revealed a deeper, darker imprint. Bleeding. Maery padded faster. Whoever was injured had to be close, the dulled prints had changed from boots to narrow stretches of furrows. Crunching snow…

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Diary of a Sixty-One-Year-Old Married Man – Part 22

By: Jon Epstein “Baba!” my granddaughter Bailey hollers from the bedroom. “Can you go in?” I ask Kelly. I’d just sat in front of the fireplace with my first Saturday morning cup of coffee and an ice pack on my back. “She called for you,” Kelly defers. I pull up…

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The Story Keeper

by Lisa Harris Her early life was a fairy tale, and a journey into the land of Moses and the Israelites, and a daily closer walk with all things Jesus. It was a history lesson on the Methodists and John Wesley, a renegade Anglican with some good ideas. She heard story after…

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Photo of a woman

My Father’s Last Girlfriend

by M. Guendelsberger My brother Pete was the one to find it once that dry tape finally gave way and the photo drifted down to the black and white tile of my dead grandmother’s basement floor. We had been stacking the chairs on that table, flipping them upside down so…

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Last Supper

by Richard Compean Janice got to the registration desk at the Lakeland Econo Lodge just in time to hear the desk clerk inform the elderly couple in front of her that they had gotten the last available room, not their only disabled access room, but a “studio king” on the…

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Time’s Up

by Chantae Eaton “Beep beep, beep beep.” His alarm sounded promptly at six a.m., the same as it had every Monday since his eighteenth birthday. Today it did not fulfill its duty in rousing him. Rufus was already awake and had been for some time. He’d spent the last three…

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