ENIGMA by Suzanne Zipperer

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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 BULL SESSION by Fran Schumer

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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...

THE BITE by Michael Nutt

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            I forced my knife into the head of the undead, killing it and the rotten corpse fell to the ground. Blood poured out from the fresh bite wound it left, and my time...

LET DOGS DELIGHT by Devin Jacobsen

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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...

LEAVING RAILAY by Lois Rustenholtz

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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...

WEDDING DRESSES by Steven McBrearty

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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...

A MOST DISCONCERTING TITLE by Eric Green

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                                             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...

I WAS A WICKED ONE TO SAVE by Brenna Carroll

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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...

A NOT SO NORMAL THURSDAY by Kyle Carpenter

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Yesterday could have possibly been the end of me. Usually, my trip home takes no more than 15 minutes using the local bus route, so I was sure I was going to make it...

THE STRANGER by Luis Morales-Giorgi

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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...