FIRST RAIN • by Sree Sen Bhasin
We hadn’t spoken since we returned from the hospital. Ma and I lay side by side on our backs on a narrow bed in the guest room of my sister’s house. There was no place to even hold hands in… Continue Reading
cancer
HAVENLESS • by Emily Marcason-Tolmie
My younger brother Ben and I sit shoulder to shoulder on the worn leather couch in our family room. “I promise you both Dad is going to fight this,” my mother quietly says. Her eyes meet mine, and I see… Continue Reading
A-OKAY • by Josh Hilton
I waited for her outside the coffee shop. You know that one on Broadway and 5th? It has that crooked sign with the flickering lights that usually spell “Coff Shop”. She always got a kick out of that. She said… Continue Reading
JIMMY’S HAIKU • by Jakob Westpfahl
On our first day back from Summer Break, my best friend Jimmy fell out of his chair clutching his knee, screaming. I laughed, believing this to be an out-of-place practical joke I was usually in on. Jimmy kept saying his… Continue Reading
ANGELS SING • by Ron Tanner
Shortly after she turned 70, Celeste discovered that she was suddenly, remarkably, no longer allergic to cats. “This happens,” her allergist said without resentment or skepticism. “We can’t explain it. Probably has some relation to a change in hormones.” Her… Continue Reading
PUDDLEJUMPING TO EXUMA • by J.P. Grasser
My marriage? James meant well. Means well. It’s just that, when you get handed a stage four diagnosis, everyone loses their shit, and James was no exception. *** In the interest of exculpatory whatever, here are the basics. It was… Continue Reading
FINDING PEACE • by Lynn Nicholas
The washboard dirt road bumps me farther into the acreage of the desert nursery. Thickets of scrub oak form a sound barrier, dimming the roar of traffic from the highway. My breathing slows as my anger dissipates, but my face… Continue Reading
STAGE IIB: ANGER • by Shelley Berg
She wanted those shirts back. Except the pink one. She loathed pink now. She would never wear pink again. The others, though — made from that beautiful Italian cotton with the sateen finish, the mother-of-pearl buttons, impeccable tailoring — were… Continue Reading
THE PAINTINGS OF SIZWE • by Liz Tsikkos
[story text removed at the author’s request] Rate this story: average 3 stars • 27 reader(s) rated this
DANCING IN THE VOID • by Kip Hanson
Three days before Christmas, Mary slipped in the shower and cracked her head on the soap dish. I found her half an hour later. The water was long cold and her skin had turned purplish, like an overripe plum. Her… Continue Reading