Featured Writing

Cell phone on an unmade bed

An unsent drunk text during no contact

by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…

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Author Archive

Think You Know Me? Hah.

by Sue Ellen Snape She has blood on hands, blood down her bodice, the stench of blood up her nose. The hem of her skirt is drenched a dark sticky red.  She’s not one to shrink from the sight of blood, oh no. Lopping the head off a chicken comes…

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