Fiction

Fiction
After the Earthquake
At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.
Carl Boon

Fiction
Fragmented Silence, Fragmented Sound
How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?
Constance L. Lieber

Poetry
Pins
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

Short Story
Dirt Road Dirtbags
It was Saturday. And I love Saturdays. My friend Libby’s dad takes her to church on Saturdays. And Polly’s dad takes her to museums. And
Nora Mabie

Fiction
Four Brothers
He’s the sweet taste of strawberries on fluffy shortcake, with eyes that reflect an enormous Heart that’s displayed prominently on his sleeve.
Victoria Birmingham

Confessional
The Kiss Was Not For You
I thought of someone else while I kissed my boyfriend. “I did that once,” I said. “Oh no you didn’t.” said Heather. She’s the girl
Kelly Anderson