by Ben Jackson “Love in the Cheap Seats” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. On the last day of October, Al Fine sat with his wife in the shadow of the Budweiser sign. He had first purchased these tickets, high in the bleachers of Fenway…
by E. M. Francisco “The Thing in My Closet” placed second in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. It’s like this every night. First, I open my closet to get my pajamas. I ignore the inhuman corpse hanging from the bar in between my shirts, despite the fact…
by Destiny Rinder “The Houses on the Sea” placed third in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. “Where’s your mother, Mia?” “She went to the houses on the sea.” * * * Greyson Beach hasn’t changed much over the last ten years. Fiery red crabs still scurry across the large,…
by Clover Autrey “Forgotten Promise” placed fourth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. A grandfather should not outlive his grandchild. Hans squeezed the tiny stuffed lamb, no larger than his age-spotted hand, and brought it to his lips. Nadine’s scent of strawberry shampoo lingered in the plush…
by Dotty Weaver “The Dunes of Dawn” placed fifth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. Following the sun’s daily retreat to low western skies, the beach becomes a dark and ominous place. Purple shadows, then silky black curtains drift across the sand from the horizon, shrouding the…
by P. b. Simpson “Yes, Walter, I know the game is going to start at one, but you know how you get when you forget to take your pill.” Margaret Smallwood always had a problem trying to open the pill bottles. She would go as far as stabbing the top…
by John Bibb Hickman Don couldn’t tell you why he was so devoted to Tripp, his 1951 Morgan 3-Wheeler motorcar. He loved the classic design with its oiled English bridle-leather hood strap and those spoked, widely spaced front wheels. Maybe what appealed to him most was the way it cornered…
by Clayton Heilman The interpretive dance, fueled by some inner desire — a state of lowered inhibitions, allowing this fluid-mechanical motion. The body weaves noiselessly in-between the contrast of dark and light. Spinning across shadows, strobing flesh through light beams. The room lacks power, save that which gushes from deep…
by Jerri Jerreat The two women sat down. Karin had changed from ripped jeans into a long skirt, then back to dark jeans with a funky red and pink tee. She’d found an old eyeliner stick and used it. Cautiously. Silly, she was being silly, she told herself. After all,…
by Leslie Chehade Rise misty dawning A full raspberry bush drops green cereal bowl. And noontime combusts Dampened petals, sprinkler prayssodden bandana Evenfall gloaming Awhile tomato pie bakes Gone the garden spade