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…
by Lee W. Sang My mother told me copper grows more beautiful and balanced with time. That’s why she gave me the necklace—two simple strands of hammered copper discs. She had bought it as some sort of peace offering, but we both knew she wanted me to be the woman…
by Daniel Link Evaluate. Supplies. Communicate. Account. Protection. Exit. She went over Roy’s checklist, then stuffed it back in her purse. She had been preparing for the better part of a year, but she couldn’t be sure she had done everything right. “I’m cold, Mama.” Not now, Gayle thought, then…
by Norman Belanger “Oh for cripe’s sake, would you look at that!” Her first sip of soup ends up mostly on the front of her Easter blouse. She daps the tip of her napkin in a water glass, blots at the red stain on floral silk. “For Christ’s sake!” Nearly…
by Rachel Chalmers ANCHOR: You’re listening to Swan Song, and we’re crossing over live to Fox San Quentin for the last ever interview with California’s worst infanticide. A content warning for our sensitive listeners: This inmate is unrepentant and the details of her crimes are grotesque. Male authority figure guidance…