By: Clive Aaron Gill Amelia sat opposite Milo in a busy café after their college art class. Roasted coffee and buttery pastries scented the air. Their conversation flowed effortlessly for an hour, and his thick, black hair falling over his…
By L.A. Robbins Cynthia and I are fifteen when the Jesus Freak movement sweeps our high school in Seoul, Korea in 1972. “Cool kids are into Mary Jane, not Jesus,” I protest as we stand at our lockers. I’d only…
By: Suman Mondal Dear readers, I would certainly like to draw your attention to the previous three days. Those were timid days marked by shyness and affliction of my stringing mind. As though circumstances had led me to glimpse her…
By: Carl Papa Palmer She arrives fifteen minutes early.After a long wait in the outer office,her name is finally called.In the examining room,young nurse standing by the scales,“I need your weight today.”“One hour and five minutes.”
By: James Aitchison Loyal Sir Bedivere gazed upon the broad water. In his hand was the great sword Excalibur, encrusted with diamond sparks and topaz, its jacinth stones bestowing wisdom on its owner and protecting him for evil. His…
By Douglas Young Moxley Sorrel’s office door was the open one. As intimidated as he had been in college approaching a professor, Dr. Sorrel did all he could to make students feel comfortable getting help with a course, continuing…
By: James Aitchison in the bluecalmbayglassy smooth watershimmering sparklesbeneath the surfacea shape movesa shark circlesbubbles explodetwo sharks circleanother massacrein the bluecalmbay
By Douglas J. Lanzo Unfathomable Sacrifice Remembered There is no bridge or battlementthat they refused to cross,no high sea cliffs or mines ashorethat deterred their ships storm-tossed; They braved hellfire withering —RPGs crackling through the air —sky scorched with flames…
By: Joel Chace Her grandfather’s milkhouse. White:the cold; those painted concrete walls; what camefrom his cows as it swirls along silverytroughs; his hair; their breaths; air itself inthere, and in her The stone whizzes pasthis head before herealizes he’s dodged….
By: Carrie Farrar The Periphery It is not the unfurled highway we desire. It is what slips beside it— a red granary on a remote risealready gone before the eye can settle my hands hold the wheelbut not the motion…
