FLIES • Han Noss
You are ten years old and a fly zips around you and you scream that it’s a bee. You cover your head and scream and scream until your mother swats the fly against the wall and it falls, dead. She… Continue Reading
aging
A COMFORTING GESTURE ON A COLD NIGHT • by Jim Harrington
“Oh, snap,” Father Pat said, preparing to step out of the warm rectory into an icy Nor’easter. His clerical collar prohibited the use of stronger words, even though he’d heard them all many times, often followed by an “Oh, Sorry.”… Continue Reading
FISTFUL OF SPIRIT • by Mathieu Parsy
He waits until dusk. The hills blur into a haze of purple. A solemn pull in the air tugs at him while his hands, stiff from cold and years, move over his old mare’s coat. Whispered words tumble out more… Continue Reading
POPSICLES • by Kevin Tasker
Sam and Katie dash into the surf. They are four and six and so full of life it breaks Anna’s heart. She’s walking twenty yards behind them. Her husband, Jim, trudges along beside her. “Don’t go out too far,” Anna… Continue Reading
HARVEST • Petra Meindl-Andrews
The lithe woman in a flowery muslin dress attacks her Olympia typewriter on her timeworn desk. Near an open window, a Fendt tractor rattles. The engine’s tack tack tack travels into the county office on a hot breeze. Dark eyes… Continue Reading
YOU GOT THE TINSEL • Scott MacLeod
Marky was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Now wait a minute. There is plenty of doubt. That is just not true. Also, bald-faced plagiarism. Mark Ganner scolded himself for such maudlin and self-centered musings.… Continue Reading
THE ANOINTING OF LAWTON RANCH • Mackenzie Sanders
The cattle lay in pyramid stacks like hay. It was a wonder at his age that he could drive the tractor, let alone configure the skulls, and she supposed that’s why she let him do it. West of the Lawton… 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
WINTER STOCK • by Martha J Allard
At the Health and Human Services office, we stand in a long, narrow hallway waiting for our chance to make our cases, get our food stamps straightened out or turn in paperwork to keep them. We are strangers, but the… Continue Reading
PAINTED SKIN • by Wanying Zhang
My body is decomposing. It starts to peel away like an onion losing its skin, only to reveal a shriveled core beneath. I must not let him witness this transformation. Since I assumed the role of Madame Wang, I have… Continue Reading