by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
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Reluctantly Yours
by Amy Fontenot Dear Santa, Christmas is almost here! Daddy says I love Christmas more than anyone because it is my birthday too. I will be seven this year. I promise I have been good all year. I help Mommy take care of Baby Benji. He cries and poops, but…
The Choice
By Amy Fontenot Mother checked her lipstick in the rear-view mirror as we pulled to a stop at the red light. We’ve driven hours to Atlanta so that we wouldn’t run into my mother’s social circle. My stomach churned again, either from the nerves or the hormones. Mother glanced with contempt at my small…