STRAYS • by J L Wynne
I first saw it on my way to work, shivering in a corner between my building and the next. It tracked me with big brown mournful eyes as I passed. I hesitated, but there was nothing I could do and… Continue Reading
dogs
FISHER • by Mike Weitz
My dog caught a fish once. We were at a pond out by the ravine. I was on the bank looking for frogs and turtles, tip-toeing over the soft ground so as not to muddy my new tennis shoes. She… Continue Reading
MUCHLY MOONDOG • by Brenda Anderson
Ben walked faster. The earthy scent of chamomile combined with heat and blinding sunshine gave him sensory overload. He upended his water bottle, drained it and shook his head. Focus. Round the bend in the dusty road, weatherboard houses came… Continue Reading
JESSIE • by William F Ward
We scrabble over river rocks and gray pocked stones in the dry creek bed. I pick up a pine branch and throw it. Jessie races off, scoops it up and prances back. She pauses a yard from me, just out… Continue Reading
HELLO AGAIN • by K. Barrett
She kept coming back as a dog. Her eyes would open, her tail would wag, and she’d immediately think— Again? She returned as big dogs, small ones, fancy and mutt-like ones. Each time, each incarnation, she came back like a… Continue Reading
WARMTH • by Kristine Gill
On the morning Bill Somers put his dog down, I was not on my porch. Most mornings I sit with tea in hand watching as the sun crests Bolduc Hill and the cool night air takes on a warm, heavy… Continue Reading
OSCAR • by Sarah Dwyer
The wailing, high-pitched sound that burst from the security arch as he stepped through it was so frightening that Oscar, ruler of crystalline worlds, froze. He raised his hands to cover his ears; the female guard who had beckoned him… Continue Reading
THE M’DALLION • by Jeff Switt
The damn wind, it never stops. Nor the heat. A dust devil skips across the parking lot as a lone boy wanders around the back of the café, between the cars — some parked, others abandoned — calling for his… Continue Reading
THE BROTHERS GRIMALDI • by Jesse McLean
That winter day my brother and I stomped through the snow for sandwiches was notable for several reasons, but for me it’s when I started to look over my shoulder, a tic I carried with me throughout my life. At… Continue Reading
A CLOUDLESS DAY • by Lena Silver
At first, Gina thought the day was cloudless, but, leashing Tilda and stepping outside, she saw the entire sky was one diffuse, glaring white cloud. She fished around in her tote bag for sunglasses. Poor Tilda, blind and incontinent, barked… Continue Reading