by Jenel Alan “The Roller Coaster at the End of the World” placed fourth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2024 Fall Fiction Contest. I have PhDs in three fields, including biochemistry, so I know the correct dosage to put in his apple juice. To get him away from his parents,…
by Megan Okonsky “The Five Stages of Grieving My Attention Span” placed fifth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2024 Fall Fiction Contest. (Bloop.) Denial I blinked at the first bloop. Then I went back to my book. I scheduled one hour of peace at the coffee shop before going back…
by Rosalind Goldsmith She teased up the ruff of the teddy bear so the starched frills stood out like a strange white shrub around its head. It was a comforting little toy with shiny glass eyes and a sweet knitted smile under a button nose. You could move the arms…
by Kenneth Bell A group of orcs rallied in front of a food bank. Some of them hoisted up picket signs that read “Meat is Murder” as they protested and roared to all within earshot. Others carried signs with graphic depictions of bloodied and severed limbs. The group formed a…
by Allison Cross I was planted on the day you were born. Cerulean blue etched the clouds, contrails slashed it through. A breeze brushed against spring. My roots were a tangled, constricted ball, and it hurt when your father plunged me in the hole. When he piled the soil around…
by Birgit Lennertz Sarrimanolis In January the mercury plummeted well below zero. The frozen world remained in a still, crackling, almost surreal state for some time. Hoarfrost hung thickly on the stark branches of trees, fuzzy and soft-looking in the crisp, clear air. In the living room, beside the crackling…
by Michael McGrath At the start of the 1983 school year, after having failed to land a suitable teaching position following my graduation from university, I approached the high school where I’d been a student teacher about the possibility of volunteering as a coach. Because of my job at a…
by Alice Landrum “Mr. Bloom and Stephen entered the cabman’s shelter, an unpretentious wooden structure, where, prior to then, he had rarely, if ever, been before; the former having previously whispered to the latter a few hints anent the keeper of it, said to be the once famous Skin-the-Goat, Fitzharris,…
by Tayler Tucker From his lips billowed wisps of smoke, curling upwards enshrouding the hollow sockets where eyes should have been, cycling in a perpetual dance. His visage bore a labyrinth of wrinkles etched deep into his blueish foggy skin. God only knew where those ‘eyes’ led. His hair hung…
by Bart Plantenga Art students Suzie Soo and Polly Nisian lived in a Dutch college town near the German border on a pleasant street with shade trees and a small playground at one end of the block where nannies watched the children play and, at the other, a cafe with…