Fiction

Improv class was how
I learned to say what
I wanted to say to you–

James Croal Jackson

Short Story

It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting

Dorcy Jaffray

Poetry

Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as

Robert Eric Shoemaker

Poetry

Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of

Jacquie Wyatt

Short Story

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on this moment. How do I feel? What am I seeing? What am I hearing? Him.

Kristen Spencer

Fiction

I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen

James A. Corvo