An Observation by Logan Roe
Newly furnished and with an air of luxury, the 500-seat Performing Arts Center beautifully echoes the acoustics of the teenage thespians busily dancing across the stage under the steady hand of their choreographer. Brimming with delight, the eager, beaming faces
Dinner Party by Marijke Hillmann
I am hosting my first dinner party in this multicultural society where the right-winger rubs shoulders with the liberal; where in the mining community one is judged by the husband’s ‘GRADE’.
The Fabric of Time by Raymond Cothern
Summer nights long ago in those streets below the hospital window, trucks with yellow flashing lights from the Louisiana Department of Mosquito Control hiss along slowly, the high whine of the compressors shooting out white spray behind the trucks like seeds
The Storm by Kristin Leprich
My brother speaks to me in a hushed tone, as if the shaking echo of a louder voice might break the sight in front of us. We sit on top of the tallest hill in our plain Midwestern subdivision, surveying the damage
Rubber Gloves. And Lysol. by Christopher Taylor
Three windows. A hairpiece. Seven eggs. Two loaves of bread. Meat. A dustpan. Never sneeze into pudding.








