by Christy Bailes With an ear tag, a chest hole, and six knives in my throat, eyes balloon in love-hate rain, falling so violently I can’t see the C-5 fly past as slow as her last smile, although I hear the plane, drumming a military farewell with such force her…
by Nina Welding CHAPTER ONE At Esmee’s apartment, September 2012 Gerde rang the buzzer. Nothing. Once more. Still no answer. Esmee was never late for work. She always opened the bake shop and was usually standing behind the counter sipping her coffee when Gerde arrived. For years she had joked…
by Maile M. Walker You never forget your first love. I’m sure this simple sentence has conjured up memories for you. Images of boyfriends or girlfriends past who made your heart race in unexpected ways. My first love is a bit different. The mistress of my heart isn’t flesh and…
by Richard Bentley We were arguing about something, but who can remember. She kept wiggling her finger under my chin. “Listen, sweetheart,” she said, “I can get away from you anytime I want. You better get that straight. I can leave anytime. I can go back to work. We’re only…
by Aaron Powell The warm summer air is heavy with the sweet smell of suntan lotion. I breathe in, studying her oily body—the way her tanned flesh glimmers in the sunlight—as I gently slip into the swimming pool. I slowly open my eyes. The chlorine burns and blurs my vision,…
by Ann Marie Crockett You wouldn’t think that a bad hair day could go so cataclysmically wrong. Is it possible that a 9-year old can be the fodder, the ignition switch for a middle-aged woman to completely lose her mind? Fifteen minutes in front of the mirror, 5 minutes past…
by Kevin Sanders “What is wrong with this generation?” We hear it all the time; its words uttered like a mantra, whose sole purpose is to soften the blow of witnessed stupidity. What is wrong with this generation? Our lost, downtrodden, desperate, dismal, disillusioned generation? I say this with all…
by Rachel Fikes Prologue-August 2011 The acerbic stench of ammonia smacked her in the nose. She slowly opened her eyes to find that she was in a dimly lit room that resembled a small prison cell. As she lifted her head off the dirt, she moaned. She felt like she…
by Daniel Potter A pond, the depression where Many a Summer’s inflatable pools were laid, is now A sheet of silvery ice and a downy blanket of snow. Grass still green and Autumn leaves lie beneath As crystalline relics, sugared memories An inquisitive child Tosses aside both itchy, blue wool…
by Christy Bailes A Sonnet to Shakespeare If I be your mistress, hand me the sun; let my red lips leave a kiss on your skin. If I be snow, touch my sweet cherry breasts, crisp delicacies for you to taste. If wires be rough on your scratchy face; let…