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 Jacqueline Ledoux The clock ticks as seconds go by. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours as I sit here, waiting. The chair I’m seated in is uncomfortable and the room smells sterile, like strong cleaning solution and chemicals. Perhaps the purpose of these nocuous agents is to…
My mother sobbed when she found out she was having a girl. I was to be the first after two boys and for that, she was ecstatic. I’ve seen the video countless times, each time noting the way her beautiful brown hair stuck to her forehead and her mossy green…