by John Grey I walked through my sister’s bedroomto get to my own,sniffed out the dregs of their perfumes. A whiff of imitation Parislit up the depths of my nostrils,and traces of powder tickled my throat. I was twelve years oldand there were no man smells in the house. No…
by E.P. Lande “Aaron, who’s Madonna?” my mother asked. At ninety-five, her last recollections of pop culture had probably been Bing Crosby or Kate Smith. “She’s a current pop icon, Mom.” In reality, I didn’t know that much about Madonna either. Madonna had scheduled two concerts in Montreal. To Steve,…
by Kevin Jones Mia always thought that maybe, just maybe, if she held her breath long enough the world would fade away just for a second. She thought that the quiet wouldn’t feel so quiet anymore as if it followed her and the ringing in her ears would subside to…
by Joan Mazza Past tax day, end of April, below freezingthis morning, iced water for the strays,a good day for a fire in the wood stove,started with old newspapers. A headlinefrom 2018 says, Philip Roth is Still Here.No. He isn’t. A day to burn more paper—heat from receipts, bills paid…
by Elise Swanson Ochoa I pay these bastards every week because someone told me it was good for me. I pay her too. I pay my monthly subscriptions. I hate taillights, tire screeches, and my tight neck. “Mongolia was a dream.” “I feel your gratitude.” “Embrace it; your aura is…
by Paige Medlock This story contains mentions of suicide. The craving for memories and emotions burned my throat with desperation in an almost insanity-like frenzy. In the darkness, I paced and contemplated taking the life of a man who wanted nothing more than to take his own. I questioned myself…
by Jason Grant Blue grass, brighter than what I had everin my humble, simple, quick life laid eyeson was growing near the garden—out there,where the Hat Man waited for me to try seeing for myself if He was reallya thing, like the puzzle pieces I hadlaid out on the kitchen…
by Christian Velilla (This story contains attempted suicide.) I find myself in that icy corner of my room, with my body lost in inaudible sobs and tears that I only feel running down my cheeks, but they are nothing more than vivid flashes of my imagination; like little diamonds that…
by Phil Temples Hear it? No, of course you don’t. That’s because it’s in my head. I’m not crazy or hallucinating. It’s the damned tinnitus! But with a new twist. I’ve had this ringing in my ears for as long as I can remember. Normally I just live with it….
by G.O. Clark The old poetsits by the windowin his ancestral farmhouse,along a New Hampshirerural highway. He looks out uponthe tree lush landscape,rain beads on the windowpane gently blurringthe scene. His gaze shifts tothe old wooden barn,once a working one filledwith farm tools, now justa still life. It’s enough in…