EMAIL TO A DEAD FRIEND By Doug Weaver
EMAIL TO A DEAD FRIENDBy Doug Weaver
Hey Michael – guess what. You died this morning at about 4 a.m. So weird, huh? Apparently you had a heart attack or something. Anyway, I just wanted...
RESILIENT CHAINS By David Boyle
RESILIENT CHAINSBy David Boyle
How many times have we looked within ourselves for an answer to the question What is happiness? More than any of us can imagine, I suppose. I first asked myself that...
NO TIME FOR TEARS By David Heath
NO TIME FOR TEARSBy D.G. Heath
I notice the caller ID number before I answered the phone. Mom and dad kept in touch with me almost every week since I moved to California. I should...
MIMI By Pam Munter
MIMIBy Pam Munter
Her most indelible appearance comes during the last segment of a silent and faded 8mm color film reel running just about three minutes, probably around 1949. The family is stiffly gathered on...
TWENTY-SEVEN By Holley Hyler
TWENTY-SEVENBy Holley Hyler
The morning of my birthday, I opened the card my mother sent me. It was meant to be innocuous, but it opened the floodgates with only two sentences: “When I turned twenty-seven,...
THE PAINS AND PRIZE OF REMEMBERING TIME By Angela Yurchenko
THE PAINS AND PRIZE OF REMEMBERING TIMEBy Angela Yurchenko
“Culture is love plus memory,” a poet tells his students. I catch the reverberating echo of his voice refracting through decades. Having prepared myself, a few...
GRADUATE by Robert Cardullo
TWENTY-SEVENBy Holley Hyler
The morning of my birthday, I opened the card my mother sent me. It was meant to be innocuous, but it opened the floodgates with only two sentences: “When I turned twenty-seven,...
NORMAL By Gina Miller-Meinema
NORMALBy Gina Miller-Meinema
“I know this guy. Glenn? Glenn, can you hear me?”“He can’t hear you.” I say to the fireman, even though I knew it was pointless. They always kept yelling my dad’s name...
A WILD CHILD By Pamela Carter
A WILD CHILD
By Pamela Carter
I grew up in the 1950s in a small log cabin located in an inter-mountain valley west of Denver. Our lives were primitive; all our water had to be hauled...