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 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 Philip A. Kaplan If I were to ask you what is the most technologically complex, financially convoluted product you’ve bought during the past number of years, I’d venture to say you’d answer an automobile, a computer, a smart phone or a wide flat screen high def color TV. But…
by Daniel Davis Tammy’s fingers drummed against the coffee mug. For the twentieth time in the past hour, she glanced at the cabinet above the fridge, the one she had to use a stepladder to reach. She could see the bottles inside, beckoning. Just a nip, as her grandmother would…
by Crow Johnson Evans N. Scott Momaday’s grandmother shared a Kiowa Creation myth. They came one by one out of a hollow log and called themselves Kwuda, “coming out.” Forty years ago, when I was entering my thirties, caught up in the free-fall terror of an unexpected divorce and unexpected…
by Don McMann Vince put the big Mercedes in reverse and pressed lightly on the accelerator. “Gentle, now,” he said aloud. The car began to move. He gripped the wheel with both fists. It was dark in the garage, but bright sunshine outside. He squinted as he looked into the…