by M.E. Gayton On the morning of December 26th, Ralph Breckles came to the realization that he wanted to know when he was going to die. By dinner that evening, he had made the appointment to find out. The following week, Ralph drove to an office building located exactly 9.3…
by Joseph Biancalana He has to get out of the house. Before the young man had even finished Helen was already crying, running upstairs to his old bedroom. He let the young man finish, asked questions, thanked him, closed the door. He could hear her crying, almost shrieking, in his…
by Gregory F. DeLaurier (This story contains child abuse.) 1988… The River listened. Always did, always had. It heard the moans and cries of those in this little city who faced the terror of life, of death, of pain, of fear. It heard their joy, a wedding, a birthing, the quick…
by Talitha R. Degraff Gum–unrelenting–on a shoemeltingon the frying pan asphaltstretching endlessly, mutatinginto something Wrigley never intendedbird shit always finds a windshieldto sunbathe onshriveling like worms on smiling hooksGod grants cat hair life eternalclinging to Christmas sweatersand soul-black dressesspiders squat in attic cornerssalt-water taffy tuckedbetween newly rotting teethat the circustrouble…
by Robert Beveridge how the handle of the cheap plasticsuitcase feels against the palmof your hand and how the solesof your cheap Keds feel when youstep off the stoop and hit the road and you swear you won’t come backbut you know somewhere downthere you will end up back in…
by James Croal Jackson Now that I know how to swimI am ready to save every bodyfrom the waves in my brain. The neurological tsunamisweeps me from whatever you are trying to say because I was trying to save myself firstby drifting away.
by Kimberly Nunes Though it meant deaththe van pulled up in luminous sunthough it meant death—carried to sand, her final ocean whiffkind eyes on us, haunches stilled,a big heart too large, and all this beauty—though it meant death
by James Maynard We lingered four thousand nights beneath an unmoving sky.Rut and root and bark. Fruit bursting from our limbs.And without speech we swayed, a system writtenFor the choirs of leaf we named the shattering.As the afternoon’s white yellow split into blue.As beneath the shards he sang his dark…
by Lindsey James (This story contains the death of a child.) You walk into the garage, counting and discounting your steps in equal measure, as if the right can cancel out the left, can erase your progress, can sweep away the gritty prints sketching the distance between the door and…
by Ali Ashhar On a freezing winter nightwhile watching premier league on televisiondad tells me he used to leadhis college team,we sip coffee togetherit has been a whilesince dad has seen his college pals.He narrates me an instanceas he reminisce his dynamic personalityon the field,in the meanwhile Chelsea scoresand dad…