by Dotty Weaver “The Dunes of Dawn” placed fifth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2019 Fall Fiction Contest. Following the sun’s daily retreat to low western skies, the beach becomes a dark and ominous place. Purple shadows, then silky black curtains drift across the sand from the horizon, shrouding the…
by Andy Demczuk — Phone calls used to scare me more than falling off a bike or being alone. My biggest fear was hearing a ring and knowing another human was somewhere waiting to speak with me. Whenever a caller gave up, “brilliant!” I’d think and smirk. Proud of my…
by P. b. Simpson “Yes, Walter, I know the game is going to start at one, but you know how you get when you forget to take your pill.” Margaret Smallwood always had a problem trying to open the pill bottles. She would go as far as stabbing the top…
by Amy Covel My mom always said You love to write But don’t rely On it to live Have a backup plan My dad always said Don’t rely on a man For your living Get a job That sustains you After he’s gone My mom always said Your faith is…
by Chasity Gaines In the wide expanse of the mind, The innermost thoughts of Individuality Internal dialogue of self loathing A constant barrage of human flaws beyond control, a reminder of every wrong move, misstep, blunder Every wrong word, look, and deed. A struggle to balance the conscience and subconscious….
by Eddie Brophy I wasn’t prepared to stayI wasn’t indoctrinated that way,sobriety only begets more painand I don’t know if I’m preparedto enjoy all the splendors of the mundaneand find a career that pays the bills,just so I can afford what truly fulfillsa band-aid placed on my heartby my actual…
by John Bibb Hickman Don couldn’t tell you why he was so devoted to Tripp, his 1951 Morgan 3-Wheeler motorcar. He loved the classic design with its oiled English bridle-leather hood strap and those spoked, widely spaced front wheels. Maybe what appealed to him most was the way it cornered…
by Clayton Heilman The interpretive dance, fueled by some inner desire — a state of lowered inhibitions, allowing this fluid-mechanical motion. The body weaves noiselessly in-between the contrast of dark and light. Spinning across shadows, strobing flesh through light beams. The room lacks power, save that which gushes from deep…
by Burton Shulman Hannah was kneading his arm. It started hurting; Ike pulled it away. “What are you doing?” “Wondering how it would…taste.” Ike sat up. “Come again?” “Your arm.” He stared. “Are you hungry?” She turned away. “Hannah, this isn’t what usually passes for pillow talk. Maybe from here…
by Fabrizia Faustinella One of my attending physicians, during residency, made sure that every patient who had a birthday while in the hospital would be celebrated. He would step inside the room, followed by students, residents, and nurses and present the patient with a card, a cupcake with candle, and…