by Karen Mandell Morning haze, tea sipped from stolid mug,chocolate quinoa cereal munched steadilylike a barnyard bovine. Paper spread out,an X-Ray. World-sized tumors,broken bones, pockets of healing,pockets of pus. The daily.Then a tapping, a steady beat trudgingruthlessly. Metronome on? Haven’t playedpiano in months, but maybe when dusting,grudging bit of homemaking…Not…
by Jordan Loveland (This story contains mentions of murder and suicide.) “What the hell,” Aria demands, “this is my sister?” She falters, face flush with anger and bottom lip trembling. “How do you know her?” Crumpled where her hand holds tightly to the page, the drawing isn’t one of my…
by Robert Beveridge sung in the back with the roachesand the expressive montage. takenaway by the men in the black vanwith mickey mouse stapledto the grille. exposed to weakness,decay, and the films of Adam Sandler.delighted with the new, improvednotation for microtonal raga. broiledfor sixteen minutes, or until the boar’shead melts…
by Mike Neis A do-it-yourself homeowner can hear running water and know something is broken. The pipes were carrying the wrong tune, a slack, subdued song backed by full, unhurried harmonies. The notes lacked the usual shrill urgency of the morning lawn watering. Roger’s troubleshooting instincts called through the dawn’s…
by Elia Anie Kim BrokeBeak the magpie was easy to recognise at my bird bath because of his appearance. His plumage was striking black-and-white, with the upper beak broken off at the tip. Despite the fact that he had a compromised beak with which to forage with, he appeared to…
by Karen Mandell Rose boarded the bus on Oaktonand got off in downtown Evanstonto buy make up at Woolworth’s.She picked up Max Factor and Maybelline’smascara, powder, lipstick in a muted ruby,skipping liner because her eyes,dark brown, round stained saucerswere best left alone. Foundation, a dab of perfume,Martin’s yearly birthday present,…
by Ian C Smith Photographers can be both artists and conservationists. When we see images of old or departed folk bathed in light in family albums – how young you look – so slim – that hair – pangs of sadness are gladdened, too, as we hustle to remain ahead…
by Karen Mandell The heavy-duty plastic crackledas I shifted my weight on the couch.Straight ahead, in front of the window,a fake lemon tree pretended to need the sun.A soon to be ex-boyfriend snickeredwhen he saw it. I agreed with himbut hated his condescension. I wasn’t upfor analysis but loved the…
by Quiarah Butler Coll bolted straight up, sweat-drenched and shivering. She was sitting naked on her bedroom floor, thick vines wrapping her like ribbon. Her feet were caked to the ankles in mud and silt. “Damn it! Not again,” she groaned. She’d been sleepwalking again. Fifth night in a row….
by John Gregory Evans This story contains suicide and sexual assault. For some life hangs in the balance. Living in the shadows is never easy. Life after Military Sexual Trauma is not easy, either. But some of us reach that ideated pinnacle where suicide and attempts become an everyday experience….