By: Kevin Criscione Like ghost ships passing in the night or dark-hued mountains in the distance, each call a portal to a different untouchable world into which I was only offered a brief and unsatisfying glimpse.  I was thirty-two. I…

By Mike Hickman “I’ve never understood why they call it parents’ evening,” Mr Driscoll said to his wife as the parents waited amongst the shards of the children’s achievements. “It’s not about us, after all, is it?” Mrs Driscoll instructed…

By: Todd Mercer Dear Regular Yogurt, The jig is up, the show’s over. You had a steady run that lasted a long generation or so. Now it falls to me to tell you what you should have already realized. The…

By: Edward Wells One.  Names, on the other hand, are precise, unambiguous; one might even say rigid, fixed, unalterable, certainly inelastic. They are not the same thing, however. In the upper right hand corner is cerulean blending into cobalt, maybe…

By: Bruce Levine It was just a game. Tiffany and her twin sister, Brianna, played it often. At eight years old the girls made up many games, partially to alleviate the loneliness of their isolation, but, because they had each…

By: Victor Azubike Effigies;Turquoise skies;Twin rainbows:FaintAnd prominent.Sunny afternoons;SolitaryTelecom masts;Derelict school Buildings;DesolateAnd barricadedFilling stations;Down and outFolksEking out a living. Crescents;Intersections;Hemmed in;At Wits’ end.City’s squareCrowdedBy lonely seats-Open spacesAndShrillSilencesWaiting for the nextSpectacular event,Solemn oath takingWith the holy booksOr traditional gun salute. Fleeting seconds:Lazy…

By: Charles Varani I              Kenneth had invited me along for a picnic, along with Miko, his wife then, at the reservoir outside of town. I’d met Kenneth in college and we had been friends since. At the reservoir, Kenneth…

By: Jim Bates “Sorry to have to tell you this,” Doctor Jensen said, not looking all that sorry, “but you’ve got celiac sprue.” Celiac what? It sounded serious. “Am I going to die?” I asked, cutting to the chase along…

By: Sterling Warner I:         First Dysfunctional Confession “Bless me Father for I have sinned; this is my first confession,” I began, knowing I’d correctly uttered my lines. During the past few days, I practiced delivering mock confessions to my brother…

By Hayden Sidun For the seventh time that day, the wooden cuckoo bird came out of its birdhouse and sang its typical song. Terrence often thought about what an appropriate title would be for such a beautiful song. Perhaps the…