RAMBLINGS OF A SELF-DECLARED NONCONFORMIST by Prakash Kona

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Others are masters of facts. I’m a mistress of assumptions. Take away the neutrality of gender and more than half the best literature of the world falls apart under the weight of its own prejudices. A...

BRANCHES by Maddie Lindsay

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I remember my grandmother’s house in sepia. I don’t recall a rainy day here, let alone a wintery one. All I see are the two towering maples in the front yard that stand guard...

WORDS ONLY GO SO FAR by Netteange Monaus

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“I love you too!” Then, I hung up the phone. Did I say it too quickly? Did my voice go up a notch? Why were my palms so sweaty from just a phone conversation!?...

HOW THE AUSTIN GOT TO AUSTIN by Charlie Dickinson

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Daddy was a civil engineer trying out to be a Fuller Brush Man. He'd bought a sales kit of samples—Fuller hairbrushes are guaranteed forever!—from the guy who would see if Daddy could sell door-to-door...

TREES IN US by Bryan Joseph Matillano

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TITLE: Human in Trees, Trees in Human What I like about native trees, sometimes, are the names themselves. Customarily, the names of places are derived from the indigenous trees that are locally found. Long before...

SURVIVING THE LEBANON EXPLOSION by Hend Roubaiy

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When I survived the world’s third largest explosion, I lost everything but myself. Growing up in Beirut, Lebanon, was a comforting memory I will always hold dearly and protect. Back when I was a...

THE MILLION DOLLAR HOUSE by Nicholas Ponticello

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You’ve probably never heard of California Historical Landmark #864. That’s because you’ve probably never heard of the town in which it resides. The Gable Mansion sits on the corner of Cross and 1st Street...

ODYSSEUS AND HIS MARTYRDOM (Memoir Excerpt) by Adam Levon Brown

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Four days inside the psychiatric unit and four days after my suicide attempt, I was quietly let out from the shadows of the underground facility. I could see the sky. My anxiety sizzled behind...

THE BATTLE AT VICTOR’S BARN by Don Sanborn

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                                                     The Battle at Victor's Barn I must've been seven or eight when old Mrs.Twombly's husband  died. She held an open house to sell some of the stuff she no longer wanted. Sort of a...