GEORGE • by SJ Bryars
I sit on the bottom stair of the empty house, sold sign standing by the hedge. Every item is rehomed or lying deep inside landfill on the edge of town. I can smell George’s snuff and spicy aftershave before I… Continue Reading
memories
A BEAUTIFUL LIFE • by Patricia O’Donnell
The bell rings when a person enters the store, the sound light and musical. Like sunlight, it cuts through the shadows in the open room to the desk at the back. Nils has a small lamp lit on his desk… Continue Reading
THE IMAGINARY CREATURE ON MY ROCK • by Quinn Theobald
“Quinn, guess what we found?” my mom said. She closed the fridge to look at me. I shrugged. I was home for the summer and I didn’t land an internship, which meant ice cream, lunches with old friends, and lying… Continue Reading
PARADISE • by Laura Brown
She had been talking with the man on the balcony long enough that the beads of condensation on their wine glasses had evaporated. The man’s face reminded her of a beach, full of reddish freckles and seashell-white teeth. Even the… Continue Reading
INHERITANCES • by Adele Evershed
self-raising flour caster sugar mixed spice butter lard currant egg milk bread potatoes peas Bisto Delyth looks at the slanted writing, the looping gs, and the capitalized B for Bisto with its flourishes, making even this common-or-garden shopping list look… 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
HOW TO RAISE THE DEAD • by Jeff Gard
In Bensonville, nobody wants to raise the dead anymore, so they leave them on the porch with the rest of the recyclables. Sometimes, the dead are wrapped in quilts or given a few crackers and a bit of water while… Continue Reading
SWIMMING LESSONS • by Dakota Mantyka
My dad never learned how to swim. As a kid, it always made me nervous because he had to drive over a bridge to get to work. What if he drove into the lake? Or what if he pulled over… Continue Reading
THE TEXAN BEGS A FLAVOR • by James Flanagan
Randle lowered his Stetson and nodded. An after-image singed his retina as he crossed through the gateway to the back of the queue. Along a dusty road, a line of people snaked towards a diner with a neon sign blinking… Continue Reading
IN THE EMBERS • by Ben Werdmuller
I see her in the twisted remains of the dermatologist’s office, surrounded by ash and steel. Smoke still hangs low in the air. The fire marshal gave the all-clear to return early in the morning, and now, as the sun… Continue Reading