by Eric Sentell (This story contains violence.) Ryan parked his dead mother’s Corolla in an abandoned lot across the highway from Patty Johnson’s trailer park, stuffed a pair of brown jersey gloves in his back pockets, and looked around for people and cars. Seeing no one, he walked under the…
by Thomas Weedman It starts when I lose my keys at work and unexpectedly find K in my apartment bed. She’s a nubile barista I serve coffee with. She’s half my age and size, part-time bassoonist, but like me, a full-time flirt. Out-of-my-league, she and her touch-me-please mestizo skin are…
by Aysel Atamdede A single spotlight pans across the empty stage, a pale circle of light in an otherwise blackened room. Beyond, the auditorium sits silent, the seats waiting to be filled. On the stage, a solitary dancer stands at the ready. Clad in a dress of midnight blue, she…
by DC Diamondopolous Pa decided to join the Bonus Expeditionary Force. After dropping Ma and the youngsters off at Uncle Vernon’s, he let me ride the rails with him from our home in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, all the way to the Washington Freight Yard. Pa and thousands of other veterans were…
by Trish Annese I meet M. in Prague on a lonesome Sunday in March as I chase a lost turquoise scarf down an asphalt alley and she retrieves it, stepping from the recesses of a darkened doorway—a mistress of ceremonies stepping into the spotlight—and restoring it to me with a…
by Meri Parker Camp, near Saratoga, New York Oct. 18, 1777 My dear Frances, I finally have joyful news to share with you. After 33 days of fighting and bloodshed, General John Burgoyne has formally surrendered to our General Horatio Gates, after requesting a ceasefire five days ago following his…
by Joseph Dehner “Be the best,” John’s father told him on his tenth birthday. But then Dad injected a correction that would burrow like a parasite into John’s memory. “What I mean is, John, be the best that you can be.” John ripped off the gift wrap and gushed, “Wow,…
by V.J. Hamilton Blue was on the bottom. The popsicle was red on the top, pointed like a rocket; white in the middle, the cylindrical fuel tanks; and blue on the bottom, where its mighty boosters would achieve lift-off. Gigi’s tongue, that slick primordial muscle, rooted around for blue. She…
by Cathy Bown There in the passenger seat of my uncle’s old red Ford pickup was where the truth finally hit me. As I gazed out the dirty window at the golden country around me, I could see tall oak trees bursting with autumn foliage just waiting to return to…
by Jennifer Schallehn I am 22 and I have just given birth to my first child,a daughter. I run across a photo in a drawer.In it, I am 14. I have just fished the runof a musical, which I have danced in and choreographed.My arms are around two of my…