STACI by Jeffrey Loeb
The house was only blocks away, so I got there in minutes. Staci’s sobs were already breathless heaves. All I could do was hold her and utter empty words: “What is it, sweetheart? Tell...
THE BUS RIDE by Susan McCartney
Into Africa I fly on a one-way ticket. Journey through fourteen countries in twenty-two months on local transportation. A woman without advantage of youth or money. Learning. Resting. Changing. The journey has many pieces....
SOME OF THE OLDEST KNOWN SURVIVING BOOKS
SOME OF THE OLDEST KNOWN SURVIVING BOOKSWe have tried to put together what we hope is an interesting range of some of the oldest surviving books in the world. Here are the oldest surviving...
AN UNEXPECTED EXCURSION by Iskandar Rakhimov
There is a limit to dreaming, especially for someone unimaginative like me. Our memories can’t play their splendid tricks on reality when confined to a room or ensconced by a windowsill. These treasures are...
TWO STORIES OF YOUTH By Ian Bishop
TWO STORIES OF YOUTHby Ian Bishop
I hated the dinning room, detested the kitchen. Other rooms, and a couple of short corridors, were places I became lost. Every minute in the house seemed an age...
LIVING IN THE EYE OF THE STORM by Wendy A. Miller
Wearing an oversized floral top, you sit on an exam table, swinging your legs off the end when the doctor enters the room. She greets you and then probes your left breast. Her two...
WHETHER THE PATRIARCHY by Joanna Kadish
Whether the Patriarchy
Sarah and her father, Brian, were watching “The Trouble with Tribbles” tribbles being little furry creatures that procreate like crazy and overwhelm the ship, when Paul came by, a slender boy with...
FEAR OF REJECTION CAN DROWN by Nathan Sweem
An artist's ability to maneuver waves of rejection often determines the fate of her career. Sooner or later, she finds that not everyone shares her intense love for her artwork. No matter how painful,...
NO MORE TEARS by Kristin Gunner
“I don’t want any tears.”
My Papaw occasionally talked about his funeral, even before we knew he’d be gone soon. I promised him I wouldn’t cry when that day came, but I broke that promise....
LESS WE FORGET by Gretchen Weaver
“Her name is Dua Lipa, mom, not Leepa Dupa,” says my very exasperated 15-year-old son.
“Oh, you know who I’m talking about,” I laugh it off, but ugh.
My own mother does this too—goofs up the...