TRAINS by Donna Stramella
TRAINSBy Donna Koros Stramella
Growing up, we visited two houses on Christmas Eve. But we were only allowed to talk about one.After my dad arrived home from work, we drove through the oil-stained Baltimore Harbor...
VIRTUAL PLAYGROUND: PLANET EARTH By Sarah A. Odishoo
A VIRTUAL PLAYGROUND: PLANET EARTHBy Sarah Odishoo
It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God but to create him. —Arthur C. Clarke
In a time of universal deceit, the truth is revolutionary. —George...
FIRST CLASS by Vern Fein
FIRST CLASSBy Vern Fein Later I would be chosen as the first Rhetoric teacher to be awarded an Honors Seminar. Earlier I had substitute taught about one of my favorite topics—The Theater of the Absurd—in...
IDENTITY CARD By Kate McCorkle
IDENTITY CARDBy Kate McCorkle
On another cloudless September morning of perfect, temperate weather, Jason and I, both twenty-four, drove the canvas-top Jeep to Fort Campbell to have our wills written. That was something the Army...
GROWN-UP CHILD By Idalis Nieves
GROWN-UP CHILDBy Idalis Nieves
It’s been almost four months since I’ve read a book for pure leisure. It’s been almost a year since I’ve enjoyed a movie or TV show without analyzing the symbolism, themes,...
NEW BOY RULES By Joseph Eastburn
NEW BOY RULESBy Joseph Eastburn
When my parents separated in 1962, they decided to send my older sister and me off to boarding school to get us out of the turmoil of a disintegrating marriage....
THE WORLD’S SEXIEST TIME MACHINE By Dominic Laing
THE WORLD’S SEXIEST TIME MACHINEBy Dominic Laing
Imagine my love as a piece of string. As a timeline.Hold out the string in front of you. Your right hand marks The Future; your left hand, The...
SANTA CLARA RIVERLESS by Ellen T. Birrell
SANTA CLARA RIVERLESSBy Ellen T. Birrell
We are hard to find. If you were to search our address for directions, you would only get to the end of the county maintained road about two miles...
BREEZE FACE By Ape Biggles
BREEZE FACEBy Ape Biggles
When I was twelve years old, I was sitting behind my mom in my parents’ Cutlass Ciera on a delicious summer day, my father driving, the three of us cruising down...
WREAK OF THE COWBOY By Ellen T. Birrell
WREAK OF THE COWBOYBy Ellen T. Birrell
The first time I saw Gerardo—oh, years ago—he was riding a flashy paint stallion down a country lane in the setting sun, heading into town for Sunday supper—hat,...