By: Tom Ball I said to my lover, Jane, “I will write a novel of our times. I had written a number of sci-fi of flash fiction books, short story books and a few novels and now I am…
By George Oliver 10:04 I don’t belong in here. I’m an unwelcome guest, greeted perfunctorily but never appreciated. I neither embrace nor dispel a narrative of escape, despite the possibility that I don’t have to be here. I do belong…
By: Khemendra Kamal Kumar Round One: The Present Tears welled in Ballu’s eyes as his daughter’s name was announced. Sandhya Baldeo with a gold medal in her discipline. With the degree certificate in one hand, the gold medal in another,…
By: AJ David They say that on the night Baba Fagbemi died, freedom was born in the Ifesowapo village. It was like a caterpillar breaking free from its cocoon, a petal unfurling to bloom, a dog getting loosed and running…
By: Debasish Giri CHAPTER ONE – “Crashing Waves, Silent Tears” The silence of the night is broken by the rhythmic crash of the waves—an endless, relentless sound. It almost feels like the ocean is speaking, each wave whispering some ancient…
By: Tom Ball IT WAS ALL PREORDAINED I remember being born into an adult body with memories of several lifetimes. When I was born in an 18-year-old’s body in the incubator they gave me my “horoscope” prognosis which briefly said…
By: Dennis Vannatta #9 At age twelve, Russell Parkhurst tears a page from his spiral notebook and writes across the top, LIST OF MY LIFE. He’d meant to write, LIST OF WHAT I WANT TO DO IN MY LIFE, but…
By George Oliver They throw them in there – never put nor place. Girls and boys like Taylor are thrown in the small, padded rooms by the Guardians. The Guardians follow orders at the Compound: line up the new children…
By David William Jurgenson Popock opened his door and found a short Egyptian girl staring at him expectantly. She had large, watery green eyes, sleek diamond lips, with a luscious mane of black hair flowing down to her hips. Popock…
By John RC Potter “Help! I’m Dead!” Those chilling words rose into the clear blue-sky skies and bounced off the rosy-hued heavens on a farm in southwestern Ontario one early summer’s morning in the mid-60s. At the shrill lament,…