THE LEXICON OF SALTWATER • by Paul Shaw Smith
I used to live in this town. Alone, in a house just over the dunes. Today is the day, and I have made my annual pilgrimage back to the beach. I lie back and close my eyes. My body on… Continue Reading
memories
GRANDMOTHER’S ART • Rachel Barber
The weaverwoman clips bat wings in the forest every night. I’ve heard but never seenmyself until now, how she breaks their bones. Bat skins twirl like kites in the moon’s glow. “Leave the poor thing alone, dear.” I say. The… Continue Reading
TEN YOGURTS AND YOU • by Laura Foulger
I could picture it clearly. I’d hear her squeaky-trainer footsteps on the landing. She’d put her head round my bedroom door. She’d widen her eyes at me — her version of a smile, an ‘I’m-glad-to-see-you, let-me-take-you-in’ sort of gesture. She’d… Continue Reading
A STRANGE REQUEST • by Dan Fuchs
He could hear vague, bubbly rumblings with his ear against her bare belly, her heartbeat a distant drumming. They had both worked up a sweat; it had been some time since they last had some “private time,” as it had… Continue Reading
FOUR STATES • by Simon Paul Jenkins
I. In Edinburgh the bagpipes are for tourists. I’m sorry but it’s true. I don’t mean to be a snob. But in Stirling they’re more genuine. They roll over the floodplains and you never see who’s playing them. You can… Continue Reading
KELLY DREADS THE SNOW • by Ed Kratz
Kelly met Frank on a snowy night in January because Megan kept her late at Patrick’s bar. “Megan, it’s snowing. We need to go.” “Just one more,” Megan pouted like a kid, her lips full and red. By the time… Continue Reading
THE ORCHARD THAT ROOTED US • by Annette L. Brown
“The old orchard was good to us. Nearly 30 years,” my husband sighs. “But the replanted version will be more efficient.” He shoots me a sideways glance, his invitation to ask. “Do tell.” I smile as I angle my eyes… Continue Reading
BLUE HYDRANGEA • by Katherine Sankey
Alice had no idea he had taken the photo, at least not at the time. She would see it later though, after it was developed, and they were both married to different people. He must have taken the snap as… Continue Reading
LINGERING • by Yvonne Eliot
His lashes are so dark against his skin. Unable to resist, I kiss him gently on his temple. He stirs, swallows, and rolls on his side away from me. I run a hand softly over his shoulder, down his side,… Continue Reading
FATHER’S DAY • by Linda Mary Guyette
The years have been kind when I see George again. I’m wandering the carnival alone, licking the last bit of cotton candy stickiness from my fingers. It’s Father’s Day weekend, and Daniel and I have made the trek back to… Continue Reading