CANCERPHOBIA by Anna Lindwasser
CANCERPHOBIAby Anna Lindwasser
“John Proctor got me feeling some type of way. I can see how he honorable. He sacrificed his life for what he believed in. But we talking bout a thirty-year-old man who...
A TABLE, FOR TWO by Gary Jaycox
A TABLE, FOR TWOby Gary Jaycox F
It was ten minutes before Two on a Tuesday afternoon when I cracked open the door to O’Shea’s Tavern. I was early and that was fine with me....
CHANGING LANGUAGE by Steve Colori
CHANGING LANGUAGEby Steve Colori
The bluish lights from the television were glowing from the bar. I was out to eat with some friends on a week night and there were several groups of people in...
THE WAYS OF FISH by Chris Cleary
THE WAYS OF FISHby Chris Cleary
The second time a flying fish thumped Tyler Spradlin squarely in the chest seemed to him a miracle. The first time he was fourteen and with his Uncle Dee-Wayne on...
WANTED MAN by Anahit Petrosyan
WANTED MANby Anahit Petrosyan
Now that he was suspended, Levi lied down in the back seat of his car and closed his eyes, going back three weeks to when he had been assigned this undercover...
ONE NIGHT IN A NAMELESS TOWN by Matthew Abuelo
ONE NIGHT IN A NAMELESS TOWNby Matthew Abuelo
It was another sleepless night in a long line of sleepless nights for Jimmy Miles. He was kept awake by a sharp pain that started in his...
THE COMPANY HE KEEPS by John Garcia
THE COMPANY HE KEEPSby John Garcia
He sits at an empty table in Leon Cafe in downtown Guatemala City. Looking up, he watches the uneven, twirling blades of a dust-covered ceiling fan, and slides over...
DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRY by Beth Goldner
DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRYby Beth Goldner
I stole the Jackson Marlowe sculpture, Cattails for Wendy, from the front yard of Jackson’s very own house. The stems were made of rebar...
LETTERS TO JULIA by Sara Cummings
LETTERS TO JULIAby Sara Cummings
It felt like it had been decades since I’d last been home and driving down the same roads that I’d driven for the first 18 years of my life. It...
SOMETHING GRAND by Joann Smith
SOMETHING GRANDby Joann Smith
“My God, it’s the church,” Mary Ryan cried as she and her neighbors Dora Amato and Eddie and Carol Edmunds turned the corner onto the Grand Concourse.Mary Ryan had been lying...