by Tom Catalano There wasn’t much for her to take. She had given away most of her possessions when they left Malibu. He furnished the new house in San Francisco. She merely brought an old country table, an old wooden chest, some art objects, and an antique doll’s chair. But in…
by Melissa Campbell Her husband, Eliot, had disappeared amongst the other party guests. Kate excused herself from the circle of women she was chatting with to reapply her lip gloss. On her way back, she caught sight of Eliot and a young woman standing at the French doors that led…
by Mark Ali The balcony door slid open and Warren stepped outside. It was another Oakland winter. The winds were westerly. The climate was Mediterranean. Rain was absent on this evening, the sky was clear. The air was sharp and crisp. Warren moved to the balcony to escape the rising…
by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro “Beauty Marks” was first published by The Coachella Review. My mother prized beauty marks. Every day she penciled one on her right cheek. Once, the butcher, getting flirtatious, pinched her cheek, then staggered back, jaws agape, when it smeared. I had one low on my back,…
by Patricia L. Meek There are men in the woods I cannot see, reenactment soldiers dressed in blue wool uniforms; some are in gray. The uniforms are nineteenth century and absolutely authentic. Believe me, there is no silk lining, no thin cotton padding to keep He-man skin from chafing and…
by Kristen Hewitt Standing in the shadows, staring at the wall… looking in the mirror, walking down the hall… gazing down the courtyard, dreaming of what used to be… something cold and evil, haunts this place with me… Running through the darkness. Escaping the unknown… Falling over branches, Tripping over…
by Valter Van D Time is gone My life is spent Darkness sets in And your love fades My body turns numb I start to freeze My hands drop Death has come Why’d this happen Where have I gone Is this heaven Or am I in hell Life without you…
by Connie Bedgood McWilliams When I was 47 years old, Jeremy Adam Nicholas was born. I was at the Heights hospital in Houston, Texas, along with my three sons and wives. Danny, who is my youngest son’s best friend, his wife and a few week old son were in the waiting room. Of…
by Mary Julia Klimenko Julia Pearl had been to therapy enough years to understand it was her job to find things to do and her job not to complain if her life wasn’t going the way she wanted it to go. Her therapist always pointed out, when Julia Pearl complained…
by Laura Grace Weldon Air is soft here fluffed silk against skin, each seam lying just so. Here the heft of a Yale ring, shoes that must be Italian, a wristwatch pricier than two years of her wages. Frayed cuffs turned under a decades-old shirt, cheap even when new, mark…