by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
By John Survivor Blake It was three years before I ran away. My knees docked at the altar, tight top-button and clip-on tie anchored my neck, my arms outstretched as February branches; shivering for new life, prayed blessings came in flocks. It was four years before my first crack-pipe, prayed…