Fiction
Short Story
Wednesday
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
Fiction
What I Can No Longer See
“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.
Amy Lerman
Fiction
Marketplace
The listing requires dimensions, and so there is the inevitable internal struggle. Laziness. Disorganization… Cannot find the measuring tape. Can she guess its proper size?
Kira Obolensky
Poetry
Early Morning Ramblings of a Twenty-Something Girl
A dream of a 1920s quasi-candid shot of Debby Harry, mingling graciously among a grandiose Studio 54 scene. Spray the lens of my life with
Suzanne McHeffey
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