by Ken Poyner You would never imagine how truly awkward this cape is. It is standard schlock for a superhero, so I use it. You would not expect a man who could deftly see through stone, deflect both dull lead and classy copper clad bullets, and bend-without-breaking riotous egg shells…
by Ed Davis The first time I caught a freight train, it felt as if I had learned how to fly. One minute I was anchored to the ground—feet in the gravel, backpack weighing me down—the next I was moving through space, transported not by wings but by tons of…
by Frank Jamison Y’all don’t know the whole story, and I can’t tell it all here. It’s too long. But Elbert Wiggins was killed in Hatchie Landing a long time ago. Two men, Malcolm Oakes and Bennie Hoskins, had something to do with it. My June’s husband, Nathan, died in…
by: Kathleen Zamboni McCormick I recall being a relatively happy child of the sixties, until we discovered I was “exceptional.” Testing occurred in third grade, and they said they’d never seen scores like mine. My parents were contacted and told I was outstanding, possibly a genius. Apparently, Father’s first reaction…
by: Elizabeth Primamore Chalks pulled the ‘72 Corolla into the faculty parking lot. Keys in his pocket, he hurried across the lot, waved to the patrol guard, walked up a few stairs, and went through the double brown doors of Harding in Kearny. He shook in his coat a little….
by: Janet Yoder You were named Molly when I met you. We loved the same man back then—Joe. I met Joe first when I entered college in 1969 at nearly 18. Joe and I were not lovers then. We were depressed together during that rainy winter in Tacoma, when the…
by: PT Russell Shrieking wails, carried by the churning wind above, deafens me as the darkness steals my sight. The ocean water is warm and murky. Its salty froth burns my nostrils and stings my eyes. I am surrounded by haunting voices inside and outside of my throbbing head. It’s…
by Isaiah Robinson Moonlight settled his features; its soft silvery light feigned the youth he once had. Resting on a straw-stuffed mattress, Faiben stretched out his hands before him. In the moonlight they bore no scars, no calluses, no crooked fingers. They were the hands of a simple man, a…
By Jane Finlayson “Arils.” “Arils?” Deb stopped digging the flesh from the out-of-season pomegranate imported from god-knows-where and held up sticky hands in surrender. The juice dripped and wound around her wrists like a henna tattoo. She squinted up at Doug sitting on the porch. “That’s what they’re called.” He…
By Jamie Dill “Will that be all?” says a voice that hasn’t decided if smoking two packs a day are doing it any harm. Is it a man or a woman? I can’t decide, then conclude that it could be either. In this moment, the voice is everyone and everything,…