By: Mira Martin-Parker My grandmother cooked stews and left the bones in them. She prepared an excellent leg of lamb at Easter, and once at Thanksgiving she got mad and threw the turkey out the window. She was Italian and Irish,…

By: Somrita Urni Ganguly And everytime I heard that song, I could see you next to me, hear your voice, feel your breath, sense your whispering passion. And so I stopped listening to that song; stopped looking for your smell in…

By: Nicole R. Sander One day Ariana realized that the world had lost its meaning for her. She realized that its usual convincing and ever so charming shine had worn off. Like an old beloved garment, ripped at the seams…

The votes are in and Amazon customers have chosen Rysa Walker of Carey, N.C. as the Grand Prize winner of the sixth annual Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest for her young adult novel Timebound. The award was announced this evening during a ceremony at…

By Kathie Giorgio Linda didn’t know how the urn got to Goodwill. She only knew that it cost her ten dollars and it would look perfect on the antique spool table in her living room. Linda prided herself on being…

By: Michael C. Keith Ah Love! Could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire.  –– Edward Fitzgerald Sixty-eight wasn’t really old by 2014’s standards. In fact, some people said it was the new fifty-eight….

By: Somrita Urni Ganguly (You’ve read the Laila-Majnu story, have you not? This one is slightly different. The poet wrote it after Majnu was lost to her.) Laila uttered Qais’s name like a prayer every night – his face was the blood…

By: Shyama Laxman Her parents had named her Ruksana which at some point got truncated to Roxy. Ruksana might bring to mind a shy, demure, ever blushing Muslim girl, peeping through her burqa and forbidden entry into the male inhabited…

By: Fredrik Zander Before I live I write this message. There might be secrets for you to know as my feet were below the ground that fed me like a solemn plant that whispered secrets in my mute ear; I didn’t…

  By: Fredrik Zander Estranged by adorers, Scattered in the absent wind; This vacuum is a bird of prey. Too late for the news of the world; Too soon for the fascination Strangers bring to light. “Could there be tomorrow”, I…