Lilly had spent the last of her money — except for twenty-eight cents — on a box of saltines, a jar of peanut butter, and a gallon of apple juice. She clutched Elijah’s cold hand as she hurried them across… Continue Reading
editorial by Camille Gooderham Campbell From the Editors Happy New Year! You may have noticed that “Forums” has been replaced by “Community” in the black menu bar across the top of our site. Yes, with the close of 2012, I… Continue Reading
“I’ll never understand why you have to isolate yourself on the other side of the world,” she said, smoothing dripping hair away from her face. His hands clenched in his lap, reacting with a frustration of their own at not… Continue Reading
Listen to “Cold Grey” by Jessica George, read by Folly Blaine: [display_podcast] Jessica George is a PhD student from Pontypool, South Wales. Her fiction has appeared in Every Day Fiction, Friction Magazine, and The New Flesh. Folly Blaine is a… Continue Reading
“Oh, man!” Derrick Sommers placed his box of personal belongings on the trunk of his car and turned to see what was wrong and saw Laurie Jones in the snow. She must have slipped on the ice. She worked in… Continue Reading
There’s something horrible in the bath, trapped in the small puddle that collects around the plughole. In a minute it’s going to drown, another smudge on white enamel, dirty and unhygienic. No butterfly this, but a humble brown moth, with… Continue Reading
It is stifling in the attic, the rafters packed with heat in the late afternoon. As I struggle to pull up the ladder and close the hatch, I take a gulp of air, panicking that I won’t be able to… Continue Reading
The papers on the professor’s desk began to stir, though there was no breeze. I didn’t have to look to see which of my classmates was telekinetically rifling through them; I could sense Jacqueline’s nerves and excitement. “Hey, there’s a… Continue Reading
Father sticks a price tag next to a canvas, ponders the breast which takes up more than half the painting. “The nudes will sell first; they always do,” he says. Kacenka’s lopsided smile glitters in the background. “I love painting… Continue Reading
Francis’ voice wafts through the smells of anaesthetics towards my ward-bed. My brother has come to take me from the operation. There’s a twinge sometimes in the thousand and twenty places where they implanted the magnets, but most of the… Continue Reading