Fiction

Poetry

Crying, I recall my father shudders, remembering tall thin men at the foot of the bed apparitions at night, faceless heads like pins, mostly arms,

Robert Eric Shoemaker

Fiction

How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?

Constance L. Lieber

Poetry

I dreamed of the day, In the dead of winter, A dreary day, When I’d step off the train And see you there- The day

Amara Nova

Short Story

Back home, my sister’s bedroom overlooked our back deck. She could climb out her windowsill and drop down a few feet onto the wooden planks

Allison Sobczak

Short Story

You wake up. Are you dead? You don’t know where you are. Look around. There is a wide dirt road framed by tall, dark pine

Psalm Pineo-Cavanaugh

Short Story

The red door to my home opened and the fresh smell of warm turkey and cranberry sauce collided with my senses the way Sticky

RJ Lloyd