by Dan Berick On Friday she will wrench you,unceremoniously, from the pink bedwhere you have spent your life in unobtrusive duty this half century or so. Your world ends with a brisk tug that I’ll only vaguely noticethanks to the doctor’s skill(and benzodiazepine).And then you’re gone forever. Next, the months of slow replacement:scattered…
Genesis is the first-place winner in SNHU’s 2015 Fall Fiction Short Story Competition. by Syche Phillips In the beginning, it’s awkward, as so many things are. You don’t know where you’re allowed to sit, where you’re expected to sleep, what there is to eat. You don’t even know what to call…
