HORSE COUNTRY by Barbara Bottner
HORSE COUNTRYby Barbara Bottner
I’ve only agreed to accompany my husband Dan to have Sunday brunch with a Paul somebody because I’m terrified when I imagine him talking to a horse breeder un-chaperoned. When unnerved, some...
A YEAR OF SUNDAYS by Neal Storrs
A YEAR OF SUNDAYSby Neal Storrs
Adelle Shipley squints through a mesh of tight black wire and pine branches. She is disappointed to see that the curtains in her sister’s living room are still unopened....
THE RETURN OF THE TUNNEL RATS by Michael Walker
THE RETURN OF THE TUNNEL RATSby Michael S. Walker
It was in Great Vale Park that I last saw George Oliver.He was a drummer. He had been the drummer in a punk band I had...
GOFER ALL OR NOTHING by Katrina Johnston
GOFER ALL OR NOTHINGby Katrina Johnston
The speciality at the Hampton Grill is huge cheeseburgers with wedge-cut fries. I'm on the normal day shift now. Hooray! Lucky me. Compared to the night-time slogs, the dinner...
EVERYTHING TASTES LIKE TIN by Bari Hein
EVERYTHING TASTES LIKE TINby Bari Hein
Wherever Joe’s youngest son goes, trouble follows.His older two, Jacob and Luke, managed to grow up without breaking a single bone between them. Matthew, on the other hand, broke...
STAY by Mariana Sabino
STAYby Mariana Sabino
As I stood outside the house, a bottled-down stillness came over me. I caught a strong whiff of mold – sweetened somehow. Soon enough, the door swung open and out came my...
FEVER by James Christon
FEVERby James Christon
1. InsideThe wood panelling denotes how old the world is around him. How history resides in the classrooms like bottomless pits found by scuba divers. Dan takes a deep breath and unwillingly ingests...
WHAT THINGS, THESE THINGS, STIR THE HEART by Joe De Quattro
WHAT THINGS, THESE THINGS, STIR THE HEARTby Joe De Quattro
In voicing his uncertainty Martin Colliver felt he was making a declaration. “I have no idea how to do this!” He understood that admissions such...
NO BOYS ALLOWED by Jessica Simpkiss
NO BOYS ALLOWEDby Jessica Simpkiss
Clint was fifteen when an accident killed our father. I can still remember the look on my mother’s face as she tried to tell us that he wouldn’t be coming...
A PITSTOP ON THE ROAD TO REDEMPTION by Mark Kaye
A PITSTOP ON THE ROAD TO REDEMPTIONby Mark Kaye
In the centre of the town square stood a fountain in the middle of which was a statue of a giant conch adorned with twisted ivy...