by Livingston (This story contains drug use and overdose) There wasn’t any sign that Jordan had been crying alone on the rooftop when Isaac called out to her. No Swift or Sheeran playing at max volume. Just her and the fog and the red glow from the bridge lights on…
by Jennifer Page My dad was fascinated by quantum physics. “The physics that explains how everything works: the best description we have of the nature of the particles that make up matter and the forces with which they interact.” (New Scientist) My favorite time of day when I was five was when…
by Ralph Souders The last cars of a slow moving, westbound freight train clamored noisily through the empty, Riverside station as Jack Archer prepared to brew some more coffee. The rush hour had long since passed and he had sold about eighty cups of his hearty, hot beverages that morning. Soon…
by Christian Sexton She looks like a common painting, so common that I can’t decide which one. And she’s plain. She’s the person between girl and womanhood that’s not stunning and not ugly. You walk by her every day and forget her seconds afterward. “I am not from here,” she…
by Eric Sommer Belzoni stood in the doorway, squinting into the dark interior. On the back wall, a large sign said Barbershop; it had a large, old-style peppermint-stick barber pole sign out front, too, which drew him in from the street. The interior, as best he could tell, had all…
by Karen Dybner The night was warm and sticky, much like the sultry July day it had been, but now at least there was the dark sky’s respite from the blistering sun. Inside, with the central air humming, it felt cool and comfortable. The kids had been asleep for at…
by Shellie Richards Harold Epstein sat on the edge of the examining table at the podiatrist’s office but he may as well have been sitting on the edge of a canyon. In his mind, he could hear the ominous cry of the predatory hawk as it circled around. His career…
by Gil Hoy They all thought he was famous. But the truth was, he was not. Perhaps it was the long, gray mane that flowed from his head, coupled with his good looks and charm. Perhaps it was the way Gary Wellington could speak beautiful words. Or his intelligence. Perhaps…
by Jack King On a cold November morning, he made his first delivery. He stuck to personal shopping on the northeastern end of the county where forest-lined hills broke dense neighborhoods of houses on postage-stamp lots. The Hockstedtters’ place sat on a cul-de-sac. Lee donned his mask, pinched the clip…
by Rachel E. Enright “The Graveyard of Abandoned Dreams” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2021 Fall Fiction Contest. The graveyard of abandoned dreams was starting to get crowded. As far as Walt the gravedigger could see, headstones jutted out of the ground like sentries on a forgotten battlefield, weather-worn and…