By: Amulya Of relapses into childhood, of placid oblivion, of all the places we pretend to inhabit, of people we pretend to understand. The unmomentous happenstances we long for, the truth nestled in our fears, startling us with its incontrovertibility; the…
By: Michael C. Keith The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep. –– W.C. Fields The closest we get to sex anymore is sharing the toilet seat, thought Brandon, who’d been spending his nights in the…
By: Sri Ram The two capsules, 6 feet long and 2 feet wide, kept next to each other, on the floor of the advanced cryostasis chamber were open already. Marks of wet footsteps on the floor ran from the tail…
By: Kristina England and I drive to Arkansas, one of my quick-check bucket list states, good enough to drive the Bayou but not to stop, West Memphis a ghost town to my own churchless eyes boarded up, crumbling, an unnatural disaster,…
By: Kristina England no one likes a prophet. My father keeps thinking he’ll die, dreamt himself gone long ago, says forty five, fifty then sixty three, the years dancing around his father’s grave, etchings young on that stone, the grandfather I…
By: Chuck Orloski At annual Game of Low Thrones Awards, large and star power tarantulas awarded me the nick name, Little Tarantula. Without Peter Dinklage famous looks and minus five 0′ clock shadow fur, I was born a midget, short changed…
By: Zola Gonzalez-Macarambon Some guy I was dating casually slipped you into the conversation one time, we were drinking yet again one night. The same shirt, he was wearing, the same one I complimented off-hand. So maybe he really liked me….
Title: My mother in America emails instructions to the artist for a portrait of her mother, now 85 and with Alzheimers By: Zola Gonzalez-Macarambon What I remember, what I want her to remember … what you can work with are these:…
By: JD DeHart The days of superheroes in comic books are far from over, judging from the popular films that are being released en masse, but longer comic book works called graphic novels are not just about super-powered people in tights….
By: Sri Ram The midnight looked ignited with slight snow outside, yet, Penelope could not sleep on her cot. She tried music for some time, Stephen King for some more, rose up from bed and walked within the four walls,…