Seen but Not Heard by Rita Crossley

Four more stations to my destination. The train is packed, no separate compartments now. In those days you could choose who you sat with. No schoolchildren then with large canvas bags that knock your shoulder as they pass . . .

Beside the Sea by Scott Seagram

At the end of the shift, he pushed a crumpled nondescript envelope containing three twenty dollar bills into my palm, but I left feeling empty-handed; he told me I didn’t get the job.

When Something Goes, Something Remains by Josepha Gutelius

I pause on the fifth step, pursued by no one. And nothing to see, except a painting on the wall of a man wearing my floral nightgown, Colt 45 in hand, a glossy finish. A lousy painting, nothing but an exact reproduction of the last photograph I took of him. Is there nothing left for the imagination anymore? You project a photo slide onto a canvas, then you just fill it in with paint. But it’s so lifelike I have an instant’s reflex to whisk myself out of harm’s way, my head down low, to duck the bullets. But no bullets come, they’ve disappeared, chronologically speaking.

Off The Page by Renée Hankins

Off The Page  by Renée Hankins “We haven’t been in one novel in the last five months. ...

Gone by Ronald Robert Moore

  Gone  by Ronald Robert Moore   Joe and Sparky ambled between the linear rows of orange trees. Joe proudly ...

Revenge by Leanne Adler

  Revenge  by Leanne Adler Good lord, please start, Gloria thought as her eyes roamed the busy room ...

Life As A Tattoo by J White

I walk out of the paper factory all sweaty and pissed off. My tattoo-covered arms are dripping with dirty sweat. My long hair and beard are full of dust and bits of raw paper as tiny as gnats. It is always the same at the paper factory in the summer time. By day’s end I am sweaty and pissed.

Cowgirl Love By Gary V. Powell

She was pretty as the Sierra Madres in winter, leaving her girlfriends behind to sip their beers. The boy she danced with couldn’t rope calves much less break broncos, while she could have ridden bulls into the ground. I sipped Bourbon and watched her rhinestones shimmer, her hips sharp enough to rip denim.

Marilyn Monroe Moment by Courtney Smart

Marilyn Monroe Moment by Courtney Smart There is not a teenage girl more sheltered, naïve, and always ...

The Tile by Veronique Kootstra

‘Waiting for change always seems to take longer than you would expect.’ Amy must have read this sentence thousands of times. If it was a saying by a famous writer or philosopher she might see the point, but they’re her mum’s own words. The yellow tile stands out against pale blue wall; the writing is done in black, calligraphic letters.

Bird Lesson by John Francis Steffen

Recently one of the cardinals in my back yard performed a unique variation on his usual song. I was fortunate enough to be outside at the time, tying basil plants for drying. As I stood listening to his melody I recollected an experience I had had many years ago while traveling south on the Oregon coast highway.

Turnabout’s Fair Play by D.D. Escalante

Turnabout's Fair Play  by D.D. Escalante This was the year I became numb, both toward men and ...

Can You Help My Daughter? by Surbhi Thukral

‘It is Michael,’ she screamed in terror. ‘Can you help my daughter?’ Mrs. Gray asked desperately. Michelle froze at the sight of Dr.Nelson. She gave a feeble cry as he took a sample of her blood.

I Sit, and Watch by Owain G Evans

All I do is sit, and watch. Watch for the light, that’s what I’m told. So I watch.