Featured Writing

Think You Know Me? Hah.

by Sue Ellen Snape She has blood on hands, blood down her bodice, the stench of blood up her nose. The hem of her skirt is drenched a dark sticky red.  She’s not one to shrink from the sight of blood, oh no. Lopping the head off a chicken comes…

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More Important Than the Consequence

by Richard Adams Carey I remember my mother being an atheist about the aging process. “I don’t feel any different,” she would protest as the decades marched on. She didn’t deny the aches and pains, which she did feel, and which were different. It was more a mental thing, a…

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