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…
by Benny Diaz III Rudy Esparza didn’t like to dance. He couldn’t understand how people could do it, how they could coordinate their hands and their legs to do what the music told them to do. Even as a child, Rudy hated to dance. He used to make fun of…
by CG Fewston I’ve wasted the best years of my life in the senseless struggle every artist faces at the beginning of his life, and I can’t make heads or tails of the damn mess. Either way, those years are gone and I’ll never get them back. Back then the…
by Rebecca Carenzo “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.” “Excuse me?” I ask, turning to face the harried-looking stranger who’d just addressed me out of the blue. I didn’t have a chance to finish my answer before I felt the forceful jab…
by Janis A. Brams Perspective One: The Storm Sometimes we sense the storm coming. We smell rain in the air or recognize the aches that accompany damp weather. Other times storms take us by surprise. A gentle breeze turns wild, uprooting trees that have stood their ground for centuries. Life…
by Christian Linville Circling above O’Hare in the afternoon sky, the aircraft trembled as it passed through the shifting waves of air. Kara smoothed the wrinkles of her blue skirt, crossing her legs in the dim cabin as the aircraft descended. While she felt the nakedness of her ring finger,…
by Jane Flint My uncle owned a parcel once. It was a beauty. Up there outside of Brookings. Most of it lay along a gentle slope facing southward. During runoff in the spring, every farm around would be wet or under water. But that piece would drain as soon as…