by John Ballantine I spent the weekend at the reformatory spinning bowls. Sometimes I had birthdays in the haystacks with women locked up for prostitution and burglary. During the summer Chain Saw Jack, in a cavernous dormitory, dripping with sweat, told me how he had cut off his wife’s head…
by Kristin Lieberman On June 30, 1994, I returned home from brain surgery to insert a catheter into my mid-brain, the center of my brain, and drain a congenital cyst in my mid-brain—a cyst so large that I was in a wheelchair within a week of its discovery. My hair…
by Cyndy Muscatel Olivia couldn’t stay in bed. The silent coldness from the warm body next to her drove her out. It was past midnight as she crept down the stairs. The wind lashed against the French doors in her living room, whistling through the cracks. The sound was 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 Christy Bailes Academic Scratch Literary Criticism they call, as I play desert Jenga with Abbey’s books, spurring academic scratch into my elbow, while his words keep piling anarchy blocks that hiss from post-it tongues, charming words on paper. I can’t stop digging Cactus Ed’s life, even though prickly criticism…
by Megan Elmendorf Grey is heaven groaning above; Grey is the heart within; Grey is the man standing here, A woman at his side, too thin. ~ Thin like a kerchief is his spirit; Thin is the woman’s too; Thin is the rose lying there, On a black box covered…
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 Leanna Totten My brother and I ended up in separate households. Me at our Grandmother’s and he went to our Aunt’s. Our Aunt Linda was married to a man with issues. My brother would call me at night and tell me how crazy Uncle John was. He would say,…
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…