THE BOY WHO SAW • by Haji M.
“But when will I see you again, Mum?” asked Dylan. “Oh, by and by, my dear. You can be sure of it.” Orla smiled fondly at her son, struggling to keep her eyes open. It was just the two of… Continue Reading
death of a parent
HALLOWEEN COSTUME • by E.V. Zukowski
Sasha asked if I would take her trick-or-treating this year, and what could I say but of course? It would be a cruel thing to say no. It was a frigid night; I knew I should tell her to wear… Continue Reading
CHARLIE’S BROTHER • by Jim Anderson
I opened the curtains. Charlie, in his giant recliner, flinched, as if I’d thrown a bucket of water in his face. “What’re you doing here?” “Letting in the light, bro,” I said. “It’s good to see you, too.” Charlie wore… Continue Reading
HEAVY WEATHER • by Steph Sundermann-Zinger
On the day my mother died I woke to rain, a rhythmic tick-tick-ticking against the windows, the first real downpour we’d had in months. I roused Oliver, crouching beside his tiny bed and tugging at the blankets, the blunt comma… Continue Reading
A LONELY SPACE • by Heather Rose
I’ll always remember the way his car smelled, like stale Pall Malls and Vicks VapoRub. It was memories of court-ordered, every-other-weekend visits, chicken fingers and ice cream for dinner from the Dairy Queen, and peanut butter cups baked into the… Continue Reading
ENTANGLEMENTS • by Marion J. May
It was late August, and I was still too young to attend school. I remember walking with my mother on the hillside path near our home at Dark Byte, along the rugged Labrador coastline. We were on our way for… Continue Reading
THE CALIBER OF HOPE • by Michael Pikna
I work a mixture of peat and shredded leaves into the hole, then arrange the bulbs pointy end up before blanketing them with a few inches of dirt. Planting crocuses is supposed to keep me from offing myself in the… Continue Reading
TIE A RIBBON ON THE FAIRY TREE • by Rebecca Birch
If I ignore the door hanging half off its hinges and the swallow’s nest surveying the dust from beneath the exposed center beam, Nana’s cottage is little changed from fifteen years ago, when Dad left me here to “find my… Continue Reading
GREEN BEANS • by Dawn Muenchrath
I found it on the counter by the microwave, under a stack of yellowing envelopes. It was sticking to the bottom of the pile and I would have missed it altogether when I picked them up had it not leapt… Continue Reading
I CAN LIFT ANY HEAVY BOX • by Dale Alexander
In my memory, my dad and I stand in the detached garage of that old farmhouse, the faded green one at the end of the long lane that runs past Woods Camp and the football field. The door is open,… Continue Reading