by John Brantingham The first good day of the year finds you sitting on the bench outside the building where you work. You’re eating your sandwich across from the crow who is watching you and having whatever thoughts and daydreams and beliefs crows have on sunny May afternoons. Both of…
by John Brantingham The first good day of the year finds you sitting on the bench outside the building where you work. You’re eating your sandwich across from the crow who is watching you and having whatever thoughts and daydreams and beliefs crows have on sunny May afternoons. Both of…
by Craig Proffitt Eating lunch in my crappy car. Staring at the Swamp’s glass door with the peeling tinted film. Don’t want to be around my coworkers in the lunchroom. Can’t afford to eat out. So many wrong turns. Survive another day. Is that really a goal? I think another…
by Sam Hendrian Bed sheets wet againFrom tears and solo gearsCranking away at fantasies,The last remaining safe space. Sunrise is mercilessly early—6 AM to be exact—And there’s a suffocating pressureTo start the day off strong. But no one’s ever gotten anywhereOn the strength of a resolution,Since it’s only a brief…
by Jackie Tricolli I am slow to rise in the morning, no urgency to start the day, no task to get me moving. I am slow to rise from a bed I just bought in a home I just made my own, daylight peeking through windows bearing no blinds, a…
by Rebecca Watters Cast adrift with only a pistol and a single lead ball—a small mercy for which Horatio ought to be grateful after a failed mutiny. He should have got a real job, but smuggling was more lucrative. Money and adventure—Arthur Gray’s siren song—that’s what lured him from the…
by Annh Browder I have always hated noise. After the funeral, it seemed like no one ever stopped talking. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” “She would want you to be happy,” and “If you ever need anything, let me know” were only a few of the constant sounds that…
by Kamy Callow The chamber was quiet. Soft lights pulsed along the white walls, shifting through gentle colors—rose, sapphire, gold—like the room itself was breathing. Children sat cross-legged on padded circles, perfectly spaced across the polished floor. They were six years old. They had no names—only numbers. 717 sat still,…
by Kristin Borders Sherrow had been sitting on the gray metal bench half the afternoon, deep in thought, when the moody stranger approached from the corner of Allan and Lamott. The kid was young, late twenties or early thirties maybe, but each step had a slight catch to it—a limp…
by Angelina Sandoval “Loretta! What’s growing up the side of the house?” Garth stomped in from the front door, dropping his fishing gear against the wall. His wife’s ever-present smile was beaming at his return. “Just some old vines,” she said. “I think they’re rather lovely. But don’t mind that….
by T.R. Healy A Man in Half “Easy now, easy,” Surtees cautioned himself after turning the corner so fast his tires squealed. As he applied his brakes, he noticed that the sharp turn caused the paper bag on the passenger seat to tip over. A few hundred-dollar bills fell on…