By: Brian Barbeito The dog must have had a nightmare then. The houses and streets cupped in the thick hours of dark, the dog barking- almost yelling at something. Waking up then- descending stairs, cold and then plush basement carpets to…
By: Olusola Akinwale My sister Monica’s nickname is Petal. I gave her this moniker when she was two because she loved that colored part of a flower and was just as delicate. Sam was the first born in our family,…
By: Aamir Sohail Do you remember how it feels to be really wrong? Like when you close your eyes and walk down the steps and you feel there is one last step, except there isn’t and you’ve reached the bottom. That…
By: Gaither Stewart With a pretty face but a tendency toward heavy thighs, fat arms and a roll around her tummy, sixteen year-old Eliana had gradually stopped eating. Last June, with the swimming and beach season at the door and…
By: Phil Temples “I should explain that I’m not a regular churchgoer, Father. I believe in a Creator, and I know the difference between right and wrong. Most of the time, anyway. Anyhow, I appreciate you comin’. “There are one…
By: Raymond Greiner The year is 1923 and the country is in the midst of the Roaring Twenties. Euphoria has not ceased since the end of The Great War. The alcohol flows like water unfolding a new era of drink, dance…
By: Debadrita Chakraborty The picture loomed at one end of the pastel hued wall. Deprived and lonesome. A face, alive and prominent amidst silhouetted men and women, greyed skyscrapers and a dilapidated blurry image of George Street. Eyes elegantly defined in…
By: Brian Barbeito That sea took itself for a painting, and was different than the shores to the north. Up from there, especially in the storm season, the waters seemed to turn over more. This brought stings from jellyfish, and also…
By: Brian Barbeito In the before, yes, before he incarnated, the beings gathered round and said, Why? – Why do you want to go there and what do you want to do? He told them that he wanted to know what the real…
By JP Miller It was 1969 when my mother and I moved to Edisto Island. I had graduated from an insignificant high school in Charleston and we were suddenly poor. My father had left my mother for a younger…