by Gonzalinho da Costa Tonic more powerful than music or spoken words is silence. Solitude is the companionable presence of God. A conscience at peace is a good night’s sleep. Coffee is a beverage you drink with your nose and digest with your heart. After the snake sheds its skin,…
by Luke Lane I tasted blood. In my mind I saw myself at the dinner table working on a plate of dimes. Cold. When I opened my eyes I remembered where I was, and questioned why I wasn’t dead. I was covered in blood, and not all of it was…
by Emily Fridley There’s a proverb of sorts that I’ve read somewhere, akin to “God could not be everywhere, so he created angels instead and called them mothers.” Mine must be one of these. For there are few and far between that can even hope to be compared to her…
by Donald Griffin I can see them, the dancers, over there in the distance. Men and women whirl around the fire their silhouettes mimicking every movement upon the lighted canyon wall behind them. Drum beats reverberate through the cool crisp night air, like a thousand hearts beating and pumping life…
by Ryan D. Moore People tell me I have a God complex. It’s not complex. I am God. I, in this form, was born in 1982. However, I have always existed, in one form or another. For awhile I was Haley’s Comet. Zooming across the solar system, a non stop…
by William Thompson He got into the house on a Tuesday. Tuesday was trash day. I was coming back through the gate after dumping the garbage in a barrel when I saw him. Stupid to leave the door open. And no way to stop him. There he was—on the top…
by Stephanie K. Cohen The Atlantic magazine, September 2016, describes the forthcoming head transplant operation which will take place shortly. The only problem I have is choices. So many, and so little time to decide. I thought about getting a placeholder, so to speak. Any healthy body in exchange for…
by Robert Sumner From an elevated lifeguard chair, Kip watches dozens of swimmers frolic in the community pool. A pair of mirrored sunglasses rests on his nose just above a smear of white sun block. Juneau hangs out below, leaning on the long metal poles that elevate Kip’s chair. “Did…
by Cari Dow The marching band, dressed in orange and black thick polyester uniforms, pranced by, playing the school’s fight song. Royal Kaufman felt the sweat from the hot July evening clinging to the top of her head. The shiny red firetrucks rolled down the main street blowing their sirens…