By Michael Cabrera Even in the fall, it always felt like summer at my grandma’s house. Maybe it was just the weather of California, but it felt like her corner of the neighborhood radiated sunlight and warmth. From the shimmering of the concrete that led to the basketball hoop in…
By Hayden Pursley He checked his watch again. Then he thought of how he must look: sitting alone at a table for two, dressed and groomed nicely enough (he had tried very hard to not look like he was trying too hard), checking his watch then checking the entrance every…
By Mary Lanctot Though he’d only ever had the meal once in his life, the most memorable breakfast Rook had ever eaten was eggs done sunny-side up. He’d been four then, nearly a decade and a half ago, yet he still remembered his mother singing softly in a language he…
by Adalia Bogert Let me guess,You were one of them. “Don’t have kids.”Barren.“Speak up.”Nonverbal.“At least you’ll lose weight.”Cancer. I don’t have to tell you how bad that last one was.In our world, we have rankings.And Cancer is #1. Now you’re one of us.And you want to know the rules. I’ll…
by Adalia Bogert Name. Date of birth. Group member ID. Patient ID. Age. Height. Weight. Pain level. Date of onset. Number of hospitalizations. Prescription number. Test number. ICD-10 code. Signature. Date. Me.
by Amanda Koprowski “Between Here and There” placed second in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2021 Fall Fiction Contest. Myra says, “Let’s go on a road trip,” and Alice looks at her like she has two heads, because there is work and family and because Myra always says things like Let’s open…
by Cat Hannon My last memory of you –The nurse ripping the pain patch from behind your ear.Pain crossed your face – the crinkle and frown, burnt into my memory.I felt your pain as you faded from this world.Within the hour, you and Grandma would be reunited…Finally, and forever. You…
by Darcie Raridon Need for a fatherfelt like a pox.So, I buried minein a box-top-box.It’s stuffedfull of lessons,he never taught,wrapped in clotheshe never bought,and I scribbledhis obituaryon the first, andonly postcardI ever got.
by Eric Obezo The cool rushing water splashes and swirls, playfully dancing around my skin. All of the dirt I carry flushes away, dribbling downstream, revitalizing my body. This pure elixir showers my matted hair, releasing the clumps of grime…
by Kelly Cofske (This story contains domestic violence.) As Timmy headed down the drive toward home, he smelled fresh-baked gingerbread in the air. He felt warm inside that Mom made his favorite after-school snack on such a day. Rounding the corner of the house, he headed for the back garden…