by Robert Barhite I hate cops. I grew up in Postville, Iowa, way up in the northeast corner of the state and not too far from the Mississippi River. Nothing much ever changed in my hometown. I went to the same red brick two story grade school built in 1908…
by Christian Linville It had been brewing for two days. Some news channels had warned about it, and others just mentioned a light sprinkling. But off the shoreline, out toward the water, you could see it coming for yourself if you looked hard enough—the clouds dark and the lighting flashing….
by Judith Ford It had started with the sparrows singing in the mock orange bush in her backyard. Anne loved to hear them calling out to the dawn when she’d first open her eyes in her bed, before the sun was all the way up, when there was a gray…
by Steve Force Carola awoke just as dawn was breaking. She could hear Cesar, her husband, on the other side of the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of their one room home. He was moving about in the cooking area. She could smell the strong dark…
by Julia M. Washington My people have been farmers since before they came to the states. Mama’s side cultivated grapes, raised cows and produced dairy. Daddy’s side grew food. Farming in some ways was in our blood. When Mama and Daddy married, they moved to California and left farm life…
by Bob Beach Shift change at the Ford plant was the usual Chinese fire drill. Second shift regulars coming off the line poured out the doors and surged into The Altered State, a boxy little bar and grill just past the parking lot. Ready to rock, they fanned out across…
by Daniel John “Gonads are the organ for today,” the teacher said in organ class. I opened my expensive anatomy book to the drawings of the female reproductive system. My face started to heat up. Women crowded around to see the pictures, like a flock of ovaries. I moved back…
by Karen Fayeth “Dad! I can’t; it’s too scary.” Jack put a comforting hand on David’s shoulder. “I know it’s scary, son, but our options aren’t great.” David wiped his runny nose on his shirtsleeve and looked at his dad squatting at eye level next to him. “Can’t we just…
by Mir Arif We were doomed at the station. There was no inter-city train bound for our destination. Slowly, on the horizon, a cloud was gathering. We could not go back where we came from – it was miles away. The sun’s descent through a blanket of grey cloud was…
by William Thompson I wake sometimes, knowing my sister has been looking at me—about to say something, but she never does. The words of blame never come. That came from my father, but even he never spoke the words that have condemned me for almost three decades, not even in…