by G.W. Adamson Caitlyn stood in the living room of her childhood home as if she expected to hear a sound or see someone enter. A yellowed newspaper lay on the dust-covered coffee table. Opening the living room curtains brought light and more dust floating in every direction. It appeared…
by Danisa Bell People called him a sissy. But he was a minister, a man of God, and he was my husband. It wasn’t really fair, the way people would point at him and snicker because of his long hair and flamboyant clothing. They didn’t know what kind of person…
by Michael Christopher Cole I walk into ‘The Golden Derby’ and look around before the hostess has a chance to greet me. Alec stands from his chair and waves to me. I walk over to him. He has a sport coat and tie on, which is fairly ‘decked out’ from what…
by Lenny Levine Welcome to falseequivalency.com, a website designed to improve your skills in using a critical technique for success in today’s world. The art of false equivalency. Unless you’ve stumbled onto us, the very fact that you’re here, reading this, shows you’re interested. You’d like to know how/ to…
As told by Oliver, the Bearded Collie by Carolyn Light Bell You wouldn’t know me as Scottish since I don’t have red hair, a tam, or a kilt. But my cousins, who look just like me, drive sheep up and down the moors of Scotland, rounding up the woolly ones,…
by Brian Howlett I can make out a dim silhouette of the first step in the corner of the church basement. It’s an eternity away across the heaving, sweaty dance floor – but as I look down upon my father I know it’s on me to help him ascend from…
by Evalyn Lee “Nothing works unless you discover new things.” —Maureen Brady Looking at my walk-wobbled handwriting, I’d checked my notes to see how many fruits of the sea were on offer at the Venetian fish market by the Rialto Bridge. The light, at nine o’clock in the morning on…
by Aurora DePuy Gossip started brewing the day he arrived. It was to be expected in a town with just under a thousand people. He’d bought a shop and was cleaning the window the first time I passed. Our eyes met and his hand stilled on the glass. Sister Pfeiffer…
by Cecile Pecoraro My journey to the office each day begins with a drive around Jackson Park. After one block I must veer right to continue up the street, Park Avenue, that holds the 2.27 acre, two-block long park in its grasp. Despite its size, the park is home to…
by Nancy Gerber It was a perfect day for the beach, the sky a cloudless powder blue, sand like blanched almonds, sea the color of smooth, green silk. Rows of white lounge chairs stood side by side, shaded by large, turquoise umbrellas. In the distance a gull dipped toward the…