HR Is Hell • by Kori Klinzing
“Why am I even in here?” the shade whined. “It’s not like I hurt anyone.” I’m professional, I reminded myself. I was not going to reduce her to ghost dust. I was not going to cause an incident in my… Continue Reading
CLASS WARFARE • by Gustavo Bondoni
Jean-Pierre Dimarche looked up from his book. His study was perfectly lit in warm yellow light, and his chair pleased the senses: the smell of leather wafted up from it while the soft perfection of its texture caressed the skin.… Continue Reading
THRESHOLDS • by Wendy Purcell
When Rhianna saw the first dead bird on the front step she sighed and bent down to where the bird lay on the morning’s newspaper with its wings outstretched, as if it were still flying; soaring down from the top… Continue Reading
THE LOST DRAFTS DEPARTMENT • by John Eric Vona
I was about to give up when the hold music — a few looping bars of infuriating non-jazz — abruptly cut out. “Hello, Lost Drafts,” a voice said. I fumbled with the receiver. “Hi, I uh… I was told to… Continue Reading
FLARE • by Keturah Barchers
When Keegan is alone and his insides rumble in turmoil, he remembers the day he swallowed the spark. It charred his tongue with its smoky texture and smoldered down his throat to plunk into the acid of his gut. Delicious.… Continue Reading
IF WE CAN JUST GET TO THE CABIN BEFORE… • by Jonathan Worlde
It was approaching midnight as Marsha, an ER nurse, piloted the Toyota sedan along the winding country road. Today’s rain had left the air misty, with steam rising from the warm road. The temperature was falling. Marsha just wanted to… Continue Reading
AMERICAN PIE • by Michael Snyder
Sunday, 9/9 The date had been circled on my calendar for months. The night before my flight from Nashville to NYC I used a red ballpoint to circle the word Tuesday and the number eleven. And then again and again… Continue Reading
TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR • by Aleks Kyiv
They were right, it all passes too quickly. Demetria both regretted and cherished every extra minute it took to get little Anton into the bath. She wanted to get him into bed early, but he was so happy playing with… Continue Reading
PARIS EST COMPLET • by Tom Anderson
“How can Paris be full?” said Miranda when Bernard translated ‘Complet’. They were at the Gare Du Nord, staring at the notice outside the tourist bureau. Bernard went in and she watched through the window. At least a dozen people… Continue Reading
RUGMAKING • by Chrissie Gittins
It wasn’t as if Zanti hadn’t made a rug before. She threaded her wide-eyed needle with orange wool and stitched the folded selvedge. Usually she would draw out a design on gridded paper before she began, but this time she… Continue Reading