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 Elizabeth Penn Liz tapped her foot, checking the clasp again on her seatbelt which was pulled tightly across her gray pencil skirt. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and smoothed down the lines on her floral blouse, trying to relax. Everyone had just finished loading the…
by Elizabeth Penn I was dying. Or at least, that’s what the doctors told me. I had gone in for a checkup for a headache that had lasted for a few weeks, or was it months? It was 6 months since my husband, Bill, was murdered. And while I would…