By: Alan Berger “Did you see that kid throw?” If Packer heard that once, he heard it a million times. One hundred bucks, times a million, he thought in his financial research wheelhouse first rate mind. With that kind of…
By Bill Butler When I was 17, my summer job was helping out in a pool hall located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. A shadowy place, it had a dozen brightly lit tables and the fragrance of cigars….
By: Cynthia Pitman Amalgamated Memories Imagine yourself seated on the ground, surrounded by baskets, each basket cradling a jumble of disparate items (a feather, a knife, a memory), items confined yet uncollected. Within each basket is one red marble, bright…
By Sana Mojdeh A Muffin Man is a mute, a filler, a nodder. A Muffin Man is an irrelevant, in most cases unfocused subject in the background of the frame who nods once in a while. Nodders nod against each…
By: Sana Mojdeh I’m waiting on the implantation floor, sunken into a white leather sofa that circles outward in the center of a large, otherwise wide-open room. Everything is white and blindingly bright in here. Whichever direction I turn, horizontally mirrored…
By: Lauren White Rambunctious I’m feeling rambunctious Yearning for reprieve from this restive existence In a transient state I watch my muscles twitch, twiddle, troll the air Looking for something to grasp So that I don’t have to remember Reimburse…
By: Vladimir Motchoulski Edgar slowed his pace as the burial oak crawled into his field of vision from beyond the trail’s end. His son Nathan scurried at his side, riding on a meek ripple of strength that would soon fade away….
By: Valerie Kinsey Her parents are professors at Brooklyn Law. I forget their names: Shel and Sarah or Saul and Sally. We haven’t said more than five words to each other, but I’ve watched their girl, Juliet, grow from a…
By: Robert E. Remillard Introduction I’ll introduce myself, (cuz no one else will). I’m the person everyone almost remembers. I lack drama and charisma. I am, seemingly not very memorable, hence the nom de plume, Vanilla Bob. I write somewhat…
By Eric Burbridge All hell broke loose and a bullet ricocheted off the side of the corner building and hit Milton’s leg. It stung, but that didn’t slow his power scooter. At his age he could kick himself for going…