ROCKING THE CRADLE • by Swetha Amit
I am not sure how long I have been dead. Perhaps a month. A year. Or maybe even a few days. I can’t tell. My brain has been fuzzy lately. However, I do recognize my home. I am in my… Continue Reading
Literary
BEST FRIENDS • by Jennifer Dickinson
When I heard Mom in the hall, I scrambled away from the window, knocking over my model of the solar system. Mars’s tin foil body shot across the room, and I ran after it. But I froze when Mom rushed… Continue Reading
SKYWARD STEPS • by Zary Fekete
I’ve just awakened, but I already feel tired. It’s probably the jet lag, but that’s not all it is. I feel wrung out from these past few weeks. This is the third international trip I’ve taken in the past few… Continue Reading
THE NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION • by Anahita Ayasoufi
The parking lot was empty. It had to do with the stormy spring, otherwise people would be here to see the palm reader. Briana walked to the concrete stairs that led to the one-story residence/office of the psychic. A neon… Continue Reading
THIS IS A WINDSOR KNOT • by Nolan Capps
Roman Sherwood never expected anything from his drill instructor but glares and open-handed blows. Then came the day of the inspection. Sergeant Musselwhite singled the boy out, directed him onto the quarterdeck, and taught him how to wear a necktie… Continue Reading
BUTCHERY • by Jordan Emilson
Cutting away the bad parts is important. Mama takes the shears and snips-snips-snips.I take a note in my head to cut close to the bone, avoid wastage, and not let the scrapsgo unused. She cuts further, gliding her knife along… Continue Reading
RENT MONEY • by J.D. Strunk
Lila heard a sigh on the other end of the line. “How did it happen?” her mother asked. “The usual way,” said Lila. “Lila. You know what I mean. Do you two not use protection?” “Mom. It happened.” “And you’re… Continue Reading
COUNTY FAIR • by Beth Konkoski
Mom had all but thrown us in the backseat of the station wagon, her rage boiling up front, as we sat in a gathering twilight and watched the Ferris wheel spin its rainbow jewels around the sky. No cotton candy,… Continue Reading
NO SWIMMING AFTER DARK • by Kristen Ray
After midnight, still eighty-eight degrees and humid, we pulled bikes from the garage of our rental house and headed out, wheels spinning down the same tree-lined avenues we rode when Jeannie and I were twenty. In those dog days of… Continue Reading
MEMORY TREE • by Anastasia Jill
Isla paints her nails, one finger at a time, each a vibrant petal of pink, coral, or peach. It’s a contrast to her skin, the color of a dull stem. Her veins, blue surface roots sprouting on her arms, pallid… Continue Reading