by Rose Mary Boehm I know I have to do some shedding. Can’t go into a long, enfeebling winter with the weight of oceans, moors, beaches, dark woods, and stark horizons. I suppose I ought to shed my lightweight roots and put down the other kind, sturdy and reliable, holding a tree that tries to rise…
by D.S. Stewart As the cancer worms through his body, Simon Weinberg prays the same prayer he’s made hundreds of times, kneeling, arms outstretched, staring upwards into space: “God, if you happen to be there, grant me the chance to explore your handiwork.” He figures he’s doing God a favor….
by Elizabeth Wischler Thomas Ray hadn’t touched the box since it arrived. It lived under his bed, where dust settled without judgment. He didn’t talk about the war, not in church, not over coffee. Not when his wife asked why he woke up gasping. The medal came three years late….
by Mark Crimmins Davis called him at the beginning of the month to tell him the bad news. “You’re not gonna like this any more than I do, Schultz, but Prez has decided we all need to ask a hundred golden questions a week from now on. I know the…
by Chris Cottom As the motorcar crunches across the driveway of Tauntfield House, my sister, Edith, explains that the maids and our few remaining male servants are lined up on the left, with our parents at the door. She instructs me to take her arm, which I do as far…
by Charly Murmann Did I fall for you? I think I may have loved you. Maybe I did. Or maybe I loved the idea of falling in love with you. I fell in love with you. I loved your name: not common, chosen, and mysterious—Attic. I never asked you how…
by Lucy Carr I dreamt of the red and yellow wool blanket that my wife, Evelyne, brought back from Morocco. She had purchased it in Tangier just before crossing the Straits of Gibraltar by ferry. I reached down to my calves to pull it across my body, my arms trembling…
by John Neal “You have such a lovely house,” Meg said. “Is it?” Kate said. The words were out of her mouth before she realized she should have simply said “thank you.” Now Meg was giving her a funny look, and then maybe she figured Kate was being modest because…
by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
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…