Dr. Gulshan Ara (Dedicated to the Doctors, Nurses & the first Responders: The Heroes in the front line) It feels strange, our world looks like an alien planetBarren, seemingly lifelessHumans caged in home, doors shut tightStreets desolate, neighborhoods and playgrounds…

By: Sophene Avedissian In June of 1979, Clara Bedrossian, along with her husband and two daughters, left Iran during the Iranian Revolution. The Iranian Revolution was an uprising in Iran where the existing monarchy was overthrown and replaced by an…

By: Jim Bates Alicia Jorgenson set the cup down and said, “Here you go, Blake. A nice cup of chamomile tea for you.”             Blake held up a hand, smiled his thanks, and said in a low voice, “Come and…

By: David Leonard Thankfully the privacy curtain blocked his daughter’s view of her hospital room’s doorway. Dave knew his wife had called her Priest, she was very active in the church and knew him well, their daughter was not expected…

By: Karoline Wimmer It is fair to say that most people have not seen ponies in the middle of a town. The same cannot be said for some inhabitants of Feldkirchen, a small town in Carinthia, Austria. Innocent passer-by´s have…

By: Dr. Mustofa Munir ABSTRACT:Poet Wordsworth as a narrator manipulated the image of an unknown solitary girl while she was singing and reaping crops in the valley of Scottish Highland. The other narrator Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam narrated his anguish…

By Mike Hickman I’ll admit it came as a surprise to see it on the agenda. I had thought – perhaps we all had – that Ben had forgotten to ever ask; that it wasn’t part of his job description;…

By: John Van Dreal Ghost At a divey place just off the sound, between Bellingham andFerndale. A rich palette of neon lighting, booze advertisements,dozens of small TVs featuring sports and sitcom reruns fillingthe den—the bar owners have made the interior…

By: Ryan Thier I was talking to my Cousin Tommy when my mother grabbed me halfway between my shoulder and neck so hard it made my Cousin Tommy laugh and me writhe, squeal, and tilt like a de-winged fighter plane….

By: Shailja Sharma That House That house was a bubbleInevitably it burstIts walls had sketched outmy identityThe roof protected itPlenty of sunshinewindowed in and outFor good, the doors neverfirmly lockedInside was a randomness ofsights and sounds inwhich I belonged—The rattlingof…