PRINCESS MOONSHADOW • by Pam Avoledo
Before I reached the toy aisle, the lavender scent of the unicorn called to me. I had to find which one it was and ran to the shelf of ponies. You can have one, mom says and then we have… Continue Reading
death of a parent
THE PUNXSUTAWNEY PILGRIMAGE • by Lynn M. Rice
Dad insisted on two things when we were growing up: fireworks at the lake for Fourth of July and the slog to Punxsutawney to see good ol’ Phil every February second. Maybe Brendan and I shouldn’t have rolled our eyes… Continue Reading
THE RED FEATHER • by Jennifer Anderson
A cool wind ripped at Tristan’s clothes. Waves crashed on the cliff below barely drowning out the beating of his heart. The abandoned house loomed high above, back lit by the stormy sky. Its mansard roof formed a brow over… Continue Reading
ECHOES OF YOUR FATHER • by Michael Haynes
They say the maze is haunted by echoes of its dead. You stand and watch the chitinous beast which waits patiently through every moment of every day at the maze’s entrance. No one has entered the maze today, so you… Continue Reading
SUNDAE MORNING • by R.S. Nelson
The sun shone bright in the small southern California town’s blue sky. The fall wine festival was in full swing. A local band plucked their guitar strings and happy couples strolled by, holding wine glasses. Families walked together, enjoying their… Continue Reading
SHAKTI’S HONOR • by James Patrick Focarile
They shot the tiger on his chain in a field behind the cages. A giant Bengal, with paws the size of tree stumps. Even lifeless, his body rippled with muscle and sinew. Flecks of gray tarnished his orange and black… 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
BAGGAGE CLAIM • by Joy Kennedy-O’Neill
I’m running through the airport with a floppy Christmas cactus in one arm and yanking a rolling suitcase with the other. Neither of which are mine. The owner of both, a fortyish woman with a scarf, chases me. Shouting, “Hey!… Continue Reading
OLE • by Elana Shira Segal
Every year at Halloween, Dad would pull out the giant sombrero he’d won once on a trip to Mexico. While we kids would get dressed up, applying face paint, leotards, swords and sashes, to perfect our costumes, Dad would go… Continue Reading
THE FIFTY-DOLLAR CHECK • by Daniel Norman
Today was my birthday. My family and friends came for dinner, Charlotte made a cake with those stupid candles you can’t blow out, and then posted a video of me trying to do it, on Facebook. Great gifts, good food,… Continue Reading