by A.E. Escence I have nothing, at least nothing that matters much anymore. The scene replays over and over in my head; taunting me, inviting me to let it in, to feel it. I sit at his bedside, staring at the unmade bed. The pillow is thrown against the wall,…
by Linda Cue There are no azalea bushes or cool breezes moving beneath the warmth of the sun. My windows are opened and my door is unlocked. Does anyone know? It’s summer all year long now, and the sun burns even while sitting beneath trees. Is it too late? Even,…
by Amaree Semrau It was yellow. “How about lemon-pie?” “I prefer butter-biscuit.” “Isn’t that a bit… dull?” Barry huffed. “If I have to live with it everyday, I’d rather it not be shouting at me every time I go in the room.” “But it should be cheery, Babe,” Martha whined….
By Michele A. Cunningham Machion never had an adventurous bone in her body. Not one. Somehow turning 40 triggered her need to be more adventurous. “What are you doing Machion,” she stated as she waited in the train terminal. Her summer was supposed to be filled with her working on…
by Sarah May Wilson The intermittent bumps of the rail connectors jostle me against the vinyl seat back. Aside from that I am quite comfortable. I didn’t expect a train to be so accommodating to its passengers. Looking up and out through the window to my left, I have two…
by Ashley Henyan Today I took my dog Chilly, a white miniature poodle, to a brand new groomer named Sally. After I dropped him off I ran two blocks down the street to pick up a prescription from CVS. I was expecting to wait at least an hour and thought…
by Scott Patterson I am the hanging tree, with a thirst for saltwater windswept but strong no shade from the sun I command the sky above the sea but not your twisted path here among the weeds. I am the hanging tree, supported by century old roots Black-burgundy birds remembering…
by Elizabeth Penn I was dying. Or at least, that’s what the doctors told me. I had gone in for a checkup for a headache that had lasted for a few weeks, or was it months? It was 6 months since my husband, Bill, was murdered. And while I would…
by Benny Diaz III Rudy Esparza didn’t like to dance. He couldn’t understand how people could do it, how they could coordinate their hands and their legs to do what the music told them to do. Even as a child, Rudy hated to dance. He used to make fun of…
by Rebecca Carenzo “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.” “Excuse me?” I ask, turning to face the harried-looking stranger who’d just addressed me out of the blue. I didn’t have a chance to finish my answer before I felt the forceful jab…