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Little Princess — by Debbie Lechtman and Lakshmy Mathur
Amira. Her name is Amira. It rolls prettily off the tip of the tongue: Ah-MEER-ah. Amira. In her native language, it means “princess.” Nobody ever laughed about the meaning of her name. It doesn’t...
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Nocturne — by Joe Kilgore and Mike S. Young
The moon was round and pale as a communion wafer, but it had no absolution to offer. It simply continued to backlight the black outline of the mountains that stared down on the man who had been gazing...
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Just One More Time — by Ruth Ann Hixson and Alberta Torres
I worked at Ocean View Nursing Home and was intrigued by a ninety-two-year-old man named Kenneth Thomas. He was a veteran of World War II and had a private room overlooking the beach. On his night...
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Sunday Morning — by Max Cohen and Filipa Silva
You sigh. You said that you’d do your paper yesterday, but what to write about? You wanted to sign up for this class—you didn’t have to; yet, here you are on a Sunday morning delaying the start of...
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Forever In Blue Jeans — by Sarah Guppy and Hong Rui Choo
The white wedding cake has little pink roses on it. It is a multi tiered creation with three storeys and thick icing and it took Robert McLeod, my father, and his assistant weeks to make it as they...
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Chicken Fajitas — by Vesna Pivcevic and Sayantan Halder
The classroom felt airless that Friday afternoon, and Hal’s nostrils were fighting off the cocktail of stale smells coming from his year eight classmates as they shifted restlessly at their desks,...
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The Oaken Chair — by Judy Hall and Delilah Buckle
And she was sure, absolutely sure, that he didn’t mean to really hurt her or even to scare her. He said he didn’t mean it. They went to marriage counseling and got the number of a psychiatrist he...
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The Baby Blue Ford — by Mike R. James and Joe Zabel
It was glorious. I couldn’t believe it was for sale, a baby blue 1964 Ford Galaxy 500 with a 328 cubic inch motor in it, that runs. I stood there shaking my head thinking I’ve $3.25 in the bank and...
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A Cry for Attention — by Debbie Lechtman and Jordan Wester
When Sibley died, they said it was a cry for attention. I hear them say it, and in my head, I mock them, because I know that they are so right and so wrong. So right and so wrong — it’s a peculiar...
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A Career Driven Woman — by Matthew Vasiliauskas and Lakshmy Mathur
She felt like melting. A reflective, oil-stained swirling puddle lifted from the hot summer drenched blacktop of a Nebraska driveway. She had often been shy of melting, feeling self-conscious and...
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Golden Acres — by Matthew Guerruckey and Alankrita Jain
Edgar got down on one knee to tie his mother’s shoe. The fire hoses had left wet patches in the carpet. He crinkled his nose to keep out the stench of standing water. “I don’t see why you can’t do...
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To Supersede, To Sit Upon — by Benjamin L. Hobson and Cait Maloney
A large pig pinned between locked knees, straddled, is given an injection in the neck. Alastair’s arms are straining as he inserts the needle. He didn’t think it would be so big. The pig’s head moves...
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The Icon — by Martin Hooijmans and Lars de Ruyter
As every other day, in the darkness of his small apartment, Nikolas polished the old guitar he held so dear. Once it was to his satisfaction, he tenderly placed it in its case, picked it up and headed...
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A Tale of Two Glasses — by Debbi Antebi and Poppy Ridsdill
My husband just stood there, unable to answer any of my questions. The two wine glasses, one with a red lipstick smudged on it, flirted on the nightstand. The room was quiet, but my ears hurt from the...
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The Lion of Abilene — by Erich Forschler and Alberta Torres
As seen from the balcony the ocean was every bit a living, breathing thing. The rain created a haze above the land that stretched out beyond the beach and over the ocean, eventually swallowing the...
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The Gas Station — by Miranda Thomason and Terri Kelleher
The longer they drove the more rural the scenery got. Shay started complaining, “You know I hate these small towns out in the country.” It was very rural. They only saw cows and fields for almost 30...
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And Jimmy will go to sleep in his own little room again — by Michael Ellman...
“Jimmy,” they asked. Doctors and nurses never used last names, sitting erect in their metal folding chairs in a semi-circle around him in the conservatory, the latter so named because of the two dead...
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Time to Leave — by Paul Weidknecht and Monique Laffite
Timing was bad. Terrible, in fact. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject while we were in the truck, and for sure, telling her I was leaving while we were rounding a curve wasn’t bright. A straight...
View ArticleThe Wolves are Howling in the Darkness (The Darkness is Hungry at the Door) —...
“Thomas, I hear them.” At last. Thomas lifted his head. He heard them now, still far off – not as far away as he wished they would be. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he began to lace up his boots....
View ArticleSea Level — by Colleen Shields Griffin and Poppy Ridsdill
When my mouth filled with seawater, I was six. Seagulls battled, yet my sister sensed no one. Like a mermaid, she danced, her mane skimming the surface. Panic numbed my legs and filled my middle. I...
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