by Carli Chisenall I think a lot. I think a lot about death. The soft whisper of a soul, finally escaping its prison of flesh and sin. That one last exhausted breath. Solace, at last. I think a lot. I think a lot about life. It is everything and nothing….
by The Poet Darkling He was nice momma saidI had to talk to him two days a week and she would buy me ice cream after. I saw him Tuesdays & Thursdays at one o’clock.I saw him two days a week for two years. My mother told him I was full of the…
by Mary Wroten “David’s Cookies” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2018 Fall Fiction Contest. David was a fastidious man. He wore starched white linen shirts with his crisply pressed khakis, creases running down the front of each leg. His snowy white beard was neatly trimmed and his steel…
by Christine Alexander “Little Wonders” placed second in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2018 Fall Fiction Contest. I spent my days in the infant and toddler room of Little Wonders Nursery School rocking babies to sleep and doling out snacks to those who could chew. They were all gummy fingers and chubby…
by Catherine Pontoriero “Knots and Chains” placed third in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2018 Fall Fiction Contest. The first time you are four years old. You’ve spent most of your life watching her work the yarn. You’ve memorized her hands, the worn skin, the heavy knuckles. She plies the needles…
by Orlando A. Rebolledo I boarded the Ferris Wheel alone. My booth was clear glass all over. The door was more a hatch than a door. It closed, I sat, and the wheel went on. Tall buildings cowered into stumps, roads and highways sunk like trenches in the distance, and…
by Jaclyn Knaus On broken wings Shattered Bruised Dancing through the storms of life Without an ounce of hope left Lost Alone Afraid With nowhere to belong In a family that the butterfly Once called her own Abandoned in a cocoon of hatred Ostracized Shunned An outcast from her own…
by Darlene Holt It was April of ’86 when the blood moon murders began in Madison, Georgia. Before I met my wife, Charlene—hell, before I could even legally drink—back when life was simple. Or so I thought. My buddy, Chris Higgins, and I were taking some “easy A” elective on…
by Cat Wyatt A howling nor’easter bore down on my small town, winds gusting and blowing so hard that trees were bending over, their branches scrubbing the ground and shredding all the leaves on the abrasive, grooved concrete along the long driveway. The trees lined that driveway like sentinels that…
by Deborah S. Prespare Cool summer air, pine-scented and clean, wafted through the open window, carrying on its drifts the soothing purr of crickets and cicadas. The light from an occasional passing car veined the room’s darkness. On the surface, this was a night like any other, but there was…