LET DOGS DELIGHT by Devin Jacobsen
Let Dogs Delight
On looking back, you perceive patterns, a particular trajectory to a life, and doubt it could have been any way other than what it was. But even in the midst of living...
A MOST DISCONCERTING TITLE by Eric Green
A Most Disconcerting Title
By a vote of 5-4 in favor, the editorial team at Jackhammer Publishers agreed to move ahead on the manuscript that for months, years, eternity, languished sight unseen, unread, and...
WEDDING DRESSES by Steven McBrearty
I was hanging out at the law offices downtown in San Antonio that Saturday morning in September, working ostensibly, but actually just drinking free coffee and flirting with the receptionist, Rhonda. I wasn’t expecting...
THE BULL SESSION by Fran Schumer
When the girls decided to have a "bull" session, they really didn't know what it was. They assumed it was where you sat in a circle, and everyone frankly shared her view of the...
LEAVING RAILAY by Lois Rustenholtz
Traveling on a tight budget bought handfuls of short-lived wonders. Knowing I’d crave more when it was over made everything a bit sweeter, saturating moments with nostalgia like honey soaking into soft bread.
On the...
I WAS A WICKED ONE TO SAVE by Brenna Carroll
I Was a Wicked One to Save
by Brenna Carroll
Dragging my feet in the face of salvation,
I sought out the holiest of damnations.
I thought my home was in the grave–
I was a wicked one to...
CAN’T LET GO by Karen Court
Paula Ashton could hear everybody having a good time. It was nearly 5pm on Friday afternoon and her co-workers were enjoying after-work drinks in the conference room, to celebrate Graham’s engagement to that insipid...
HASTILUDE by Derek Kelly
“You’re dead.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re dead. I shot you in the head.”
“No, you didn’t. I got hit in the shoulder.”
“The head Gerry.”
“The shoulder.”
“The bleedin’ head.”
“You missed Jason. I got shot in the shoulder....
ENIGMA by Suzanne Zipperer
Cyrus hated prejudice in the true sense of the word: pre-judging. That quick assessment everyone does, filing people in mental categories by their dress, hair style, address, occupation, skin tone. He figured that this...
THE STRANGER by Luis Morales-Giorgi
The door doesn’t open often at this hour. I slouched, my eyes following my favorite pair of socks tumbling through a monsoon of shirts. The machine rattled and groaned as it worked. I just...