By: Michal Reibenbach For several years now my friend Shifra and I have been in the habit of collecting old clothes from our family and friends. When we have managed to gather together a substantial amount we load the clothes…
By: Michal Reibenbach “I always visit my sister’s grave at this time of year, just before Yom Kippur. Would you come to the cemetery with me tomorrow for I really hate going alone?” Elia asks me over the phone. “Yes,…
By: Eric Burbridge The day started questionable; a stubbed toe, dropped medication in the toilet and alarm test failure. Discouraging, but I refused to abandon the plan. The plan; reconnect, instead of going out of town with the family, with…
By: Ram Govardhan Tipu Sultan, the Badhsah of Kingdom of Mysore, robed in silky raiment gleaming with jewels, was stomping around in piked shoes in the glittering Darbar-e-Khas of the Daria Daulat Bagh Palace in Srirangapatna, at a measured pace,…
By: R. E. Hengsterman They stood in waist-high feathery plume grass which gathered around the large pond. Two fishing poles lay against a folding chair whose canvas seat sheltered an aspiring pink tackle box and a container of red worms…
By: Mark Kodama All his life, Icarus wanted to do something great, heroic, perhaps even save the world. Now at 40, the fate of the human race on earth rested on his shoulders. To be sure, Icarus was smart, some…
By: Nathaniel Okolo TALE 1 Day 1 I decided to steal another quick glance at her, the tenth in less than ten minutes, might have been more, definitely not less. Oops! Our eyes met again, why must she decide to…
By Gaither Stewart THE POWER OF LOVE Since his return home from the war Helmut had never felt emotions of normal human warmth. The atmosphere in those maddened postwar years had been chaotic. Life was different then. He too had…
By: Prashil Kumar Hello Krishna, “The spirit lives on. It never perishes”. This is what my father told me and my sister back in the village. My spirit will deliver this letter to you. With over I billion followers and…
By: Nick Sweeney ‘I treasure your letters,’ he read. ‘I hear your pen scratch the page, see you walking to the post. This chain of events cuts through logic to crystal clear beauty in my mind, your letters the result,…