by Shellie Richards Harold Epstein sat on the edge of the examining table at the podiatrist’s office but he may as well have been sitting on the edge of a canyon. In his mind, he could hear the ominous cry of the predatory hawk as it circled around. His career…
by Gonzalinho da Costa Democracy is power, Power of the people, The people exercising majority rule, Majority rule in defense and support of human rights, including minority rights, Rights upheld and protected by the rule of law, Rule of law ensuring free and fair elections, Free and fair—and sufficiently frequent—elections…
by Gil Hoy They all thought he was famous. But the truth was, he was not. Perhaps it was the long, gray mane that flowed from his head, coupled with his good looks and charm. Perhaps it was the way Gary Wellington could speak beautiful words. Or his intelligence. Perhaps…
by Brian Reickert We rode out from Denver,Cherokee in towand you pretty worse for wear,across the receding foothillsand into the creased canvasof eastern Colorado. Hard winds against the trailer,endless cigarettesand some edibles,but no weed because ofinterstate paranoia. And wouldn’t you know,in Nebraska we’re stoppedand searched, but we could laugh(the pills…
by George Freek Swallows rise in the air as softly as feathers, but they go nowhere, then disappear, as if they’d never been here. I feel the heaviness of my fate, as if some God was once in this room, but is now gone away, to leave it a sterile…
by Adalia Bogert Let me guess,You were one of them. “Don’t have kids.”Barren.“Speak up.”Nonverbal.“At least you’ll lose weight.”Cancer. I don’t have to tell you how bad that last one was.In our world, we have rankings.And Cancer is #1. Now you’re one of us.And you want to know the rules. I’ll…
by Adalia Bogert Name. Date of birth. Group member ID. Patient ID. Age. Height. Weight. Pain level. Date of onset. Number of hospitalizations. Prescription number. Test number. ICD-10 code. Signature. Date. Me.
by Nancy Swallow Somerfeld On paper, I had a sister But none I could call a friend. Yes, I know Sue was ill, No fault of her own, Still, I longed for a pal Who would know me, get me, Not the paranoid specter, The schizophrenia that robbed her Of…
by Jack King On a cold November morning, he made his first delivery. He stuck to personal shopping on the northeastern end of the county where forest-lined hills broke dense neighborhoods of houses on postage-stamp lots. The Hockstedtters’ place sat on a cul-de-sac. Lee donned his mask, pinched the clip…
by Rachel E. Enright “The Graveyard of Abandoned Dreams” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2021 Fall Fiction Contest. The graveyard of abandoned dreams was starting to get crowded. As far as Walt the gravedigger could see, headstones jutted out of the ground like sentries on a forgotten battlefield, weather-worn and…