ONE, TWO, THREE, BANANA by Robert Kirkley

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ONE, TWO, THREE, BANANAby Bob Kirkley On the first Saturday of May, Barry's mother signed him up for soccer camp, the two-year-old class.  She sighed.  Now came the tricky part."Every Saturday morning at 10:30 in...

LIGHT by Sandra M. Perez

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She couldn’t remember the last time she stood in the light. “Always look for the light,” he told her. “The pool of light is here, where you dance your solo.” His eyes reflected magic...

RED by Zeyneb Kaya

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When they told us to stand, we all rose. When they told us to look ahead, we directed our gaze. When they told us, silence, we let the quiet still around us. There was...

THE JOB by Juan Sanchez

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Four individuals stand in front of a concrete wall. The wall surrounds a large building. One of the four individuals, a man with pointy ears and a trench coat, looks up and down at...

MOTHER LOVE Nancy Smith Harris

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Photo by Nick Fewings~Unsplash Mother Love I missed my first high school interview—the one at the Stephens School for Boys—because on her way to pick me up, Mom’s car collided with a semi hauling 300 gallons...

THE GIFT OF THE RAIN GOD by Nigel Pugh

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The Gift of the Rain God Maybe a god of the rain forest slumbers on a mountain ledge high above the valley and the lake, his ample stomach rising and falling, with his ethereal entourage,...

MOZART’S SONATA IN D MAJOR by Bo Kearns

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Drawn by the prospect of publication, writers gathered at the conference in Malibu. A bespectacled woman, her gray hair uniformly curled under at the edges, stood and read from her work. “The mother left...

UNLEARN by Francis Duffy

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Of course, gender reassignment wasn’t available then. Not that I was unhappy with having been born male. Rather, it was the latter half of the nature-versus-nurture dichotomy that vexed me. My abnormality surfaced early. I’d ridden...

KEEPSAKES ARE TEMPORAL DEBRIS by Edie Meade

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I comb, in lieu of packing, through a box of letters that’s been perched on the bedroom bookshelf since we leased this apartment two years ago. And although now is not the time, I...

DON’T TELL by Keith Manos

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Don't Tell He stands next to my desk and uses this pen with green ink to mark my homework.  I’m so used to the red markings that every other teacher uses, I have to stare...