by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
by Christina Johnson Once upon a time, I sat down, ready to write this really cool story. It was going to have DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! in it, along with some stupid, cliché type characters who were stupid enough to think going on a spring break tour of the mountains just…