By: DC Foster Scar tissue mottled the old man’s hands, the thinner the lighter; it ran like Desert Storm camouflage from his wrists into his fingers toward the jaundiced nails that tipped each of his ten digits. No, nine digits. His…

Your sulky countenance, once source of infinite affection, now drives me angry impatient indifferent and repulsive. That feeling of innocent tussle which brought us closer each day has walked out unnoticed untold. The sunlit fields irrigated by our sweat replenishing…

The Commonwealth Foundation has announced the regional winners for the 2013 Commonwealth Book Prize and Commonwealth Short Story Prize. Representing Africa, Asia, Canada & Europe, Caribbean, and the Pacific regions, these writers will now compete to become the overall winner,…

By: Morgan O’Connor At sun up she escaped by cab. I miss her as much as the time before I knew the taste of perfect bread, spice of exquisite soup. souls proudly inter-floundering, curl of a pounding wave. our searches are…

By: Gary Beck   (a one-act play) Scene  (The kitchen of the Rawlins, a blue-collar family struggling to make ends meet in the economic downturn. The apartment is low-income. Enter Fred, carrying laptop, logged onto a site. He starts to…

It is usually our anticipation from any book that it will entertain us, take us on an exotic ride where varied emotions of life—surprise, love, desire, hatred, happiness, etc—can clash together and become alive through unheard anecdotes, tales, stories and…

By: Richard D. Hartwell   She’d been plying him with gifts for a month or so. He started to stay over about halfway through the month. A few of his uniform things hung in her closet, but mostly the new things…

By: Robert S. King Among clouds of attacking crows he spots the white bird and fires. That will put it out of its misery, he says. The bird dog waits below, pointing downward as the dove falls. The blue-collared dog…

‘Writing is like going back to dark places’ is a recent thing that fell into my ears. A renowned author has said this in an interview to a newspaper. He’s not the one to voice the pains involved in writing…

By: Richard D. Hartwell  Not for the first time, Perhaps for the last, I note this is no monologue, Rather a continuing, one-sided dialogue. You, Sitting there embalmed On your judgmental stool. You, Calling yourself a person of discourse Are…