Fiction
Fiction
After the Earthquake
At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.
Carl Boon
Poetry
The God in the Attic
In our attic, among things, as it seems of past lives, lives a bitter God. When guests come to our house, we don’t mention him.
Ernad Osmic
Short Story
A New World
While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a
A.J. Whitaker
Fiction
The Bricks are Shrieking
Cal Jacobs sat in an uncomfortable rolling chair made of plastic and polyester, staring out the tenth floor window of his high-rise.
L. Hugo Mackie
Fiction
Persistence, Memory, Time
Have you ever met someone who makes you question everything you’ve ever wanted?
Kelly Dasta
Poetry
Antagonistic Environment
he swears that the desert is laughing, mocking him with the distant wail of the wind, the hoot of an owl. each spray of dry
Rachel Linton