“All you gotta do is go in and scout around. We’ll be right here.” The manhole cover lay next to the open hole in the dead-end road, where Bobby and Max had set it. Weird gurgling sounds echoed out of… Continue Reading
It took the pressure off, Karen supposed, to spend Valentine’s Day with a man, even if it was this man, ghost of Valentine’s Day past, whom coincidence had handed her on the holiest of greeting card holidays. Neither of them… Continue Reading
The room has no adornments — plain four walls, gray floor, no windows, a table and two chairs, one on either side. Seated in the chair facing the door, a young man wearing a long white trench coat is looking… Continue Reading
I watch my husband, Nick, lift weights at the gym. His muscles bulge, and I hear him grunting. Good pain, he calls it. His veins have become prominent from pumping iron. They form bluish highways under his skin. I go… Continue Reading
“Hello Mavis”. Mavis, I love you. I remember being drunk on your scent. I remember how you shone across my world like a beacon lighting the way to everything I ever wanted. For fifty years you held my heart in… Continue Reading
She answered the door promptly: the pretty woman from the ad. She had the same blonde hair, the dark green eyes. She wore a black lace sweater and looked 21. “Yes?” Her voice was old, raspy, not like her face… Continue Reading
editorial by Camille Gooderham Campbell From the Editors Here we are in October again, with Halloween treats on display everywhere, and the sound of firecrackers in the evenings (at least, we have that unmistakeable October sound here… I’m not sure… Continue Reading
It would take her ten steps to cross the grocery store parking lot, but Claire stopped after four. That was when she saw them, neatly folded in the carts of every other shopper, the tidy preparations of the diligent. Bags.… Continue Reading
Listen to “And What About Me” by Irena Pasvinter, read by Folly Blaine: [display_podcast] Irena Pasvinter earns a living by software engineering and happiness by writing poetry and fiction. Her kids make sure she has never a dull moment. Her… Continue Reading
Thirty feet above the yard, Jake’s old man hung from the dead oak, a rope around his neck. The tree had overshadowed their home since Jake was a brat. Had been dropping its bare branches since about then too. Smashed… Continue Reading