by Courtney Williams Carter Cast of Characters Pearl: mid-forties solid, strong physically and emotionally, the oldest sister of 3, and the leader of her family. Benjamin: Pearl’s husband, mild-mannered, supportive, loving, and a hard worker. Ginger: preteen girl, sullen, mischievous, intelligent, wears black and a Discman at all times. Jordan: three-year-old boy, active,…
by Julia M. Washington My people have been farmers since before they came to the states. Mama’s side cultivated grapes, raised cows and produced dairy. Daddy’s side grew food. Farming in some ways was in our blood. When Mama and Daddy married, they moved to California and left farm life…
by Lynn Doiron 1. I found nubby letter R’s meant for jackets, meant to brag, meant to say to everyone, I got this one for swimming, this one for track. I found the Iwo Jima buckle, brass and never worn. I found the ball-strike counter from his kneeling days behind…
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…
By Pamela Hammond A honey haze spreads over a hill where ravines invite dreams in blue shadows. Worries melt away in twilight like fire losing its flame to a curl of smoke. Tall trees link together— a grove. I find comfort watching the shift of light. And tonight, rustling bird…
by Judith Grissmer It is the last night before seasonal renters arrive. Sun casts crimson on windows settles behind black pine. As I sit on our beach-house steps, the small colony of feral cats that live here year-round lie on the driveway at my feet. They have kept me company…
by donnarkevic Each Holy Week, babas, place orders with Ted, the mailman, for ducks to make Czarnina, soup from the blood. Ted reconnoitered behind enemy lines, his knife slitting throats of Nazis, wounds squirting blood, death draggling a green uniform to the pallor of red clay. In Pittsburgh’s strip district,…
by J.P. Colby on these bright days of milk and violet light causes life to flash through thoughts like chalk spread hard, sprawled on pavement. overhead a man hangs paintings in a house of white. daisies litter his mound of clay. He builds a house of clay. He perfumes his…
by Laura Senff Inspiration approaches in many forms A ray of sunshine or a sliver of moonlight Watching campfire flames ignite The wind blowing in the trees or waves hitting the shore Or even watching winged beasts soar Inspiration in sundry situations transforms Maybe it is a speech on television…
by Michael A. Clark It was a quiet night at the Morehead Tavern when the Nazi sat down next to me. Chad the bartender was languidly watching the Hornets losing to the Cavaliers on TV as a chunky, balding guy was trying to chat up a girl twenty years younger…
by Lois Hard She’s not afraid to be alone or to keep her tether short. Safety is the issue here– an impenetrable wall that wraps around her fortress. No biting bullets, no clawing blades of insults not meant for her ears. But she does hear, and the concrete window slams…