By: Todd Mercer 1. “I’m telling you James, that poor woman over there endured the whole winter by herself. The worst one since ’78, and her man left her to it. At least since November, I saw her packing those…

By: Jim Woessner After Junk ’n Haul emptied the house, Bryan took a last walk through before the demolition crew arrived. It was the first time he’d been inside since the funeral. He assumed there was nothing of value left,…

By: Elaine Lennon Waah. Waah. Waah. The klaxon sounded and through the layer of the protective headphones clamped like cotton reels either side of his hard hat, Harwood could hear the insistent scream and thrum of machinery as the moving…

By: James Bates Growing up it never failed, and this year was no exception, the first day of school was always embarrassing. By that I’m referring to class introductions, where the teacher went around and had us introduce ourselves and…

By Mark Herder 1. While retrieving the package in his brother’s garage, Tom Doughtery came across a calendar from 1992 – “Freebirds”– and gazed upon Cheri, who would have been eighteen at the time, topless, straddling a 1935 Indian Chief…

By: The Birch twins I sit at the side of Michael on the sofa and hand him the manuscript. “It’s done,” I say, “but I’m a little nervous.” “Relax Danny,” he says kissing me softly on the cheek, “you’re an…

By Eddie D. Moore             After stuffing his mask into his candy bag, Mitch unchained his bicycle from the lamp post and headed for home. Younger children were still running from house to house unescorted, and the youngest ones walked…

By: Richard Stickann The heartwood. Intense black. Enigmatic. Symbol of power of the ancient kings. Fruit of the gods. Antidote to evil for the ancients. Exotic. Beautiful. The wood rubbed smooth against his fingers. It was a dense, richly textured…

By Autumn Sun The birthed, grew into epitaphs of demise. It’s growing pain, the elongation of anguish, hinged on joints connected to the bones of spuriousness. The crimes against brother and sister, shape the desolate unfertile ground, no longer harvesting…

By: Lyndsay Stanley All of her benefactors were dead.  Even Robert.  Her Robert.  She could close her eyes and still feel his gentle touches and the warmth of his tender lips lovingly hovering over her own.  He was the reason…