The Rusted Swing Set by Sheila Good

The Rusted Swing Set  by Sheila Good She folded the morning newspaper. Her old bones creaked as ...

It Never Ends by Frank Joussen

 It Never Ends by Frank Joussen A single red rose in the middle. It´s a nice enough ...

Blue China by Jason Ehlen

I haven’t seen the sun for weeks. Months really. Maybe one day last month. And everybody talked about how beautiful the blue sky was. Amazed at the sight of the sun. Really?

Guapo by N. Fabal

Guapo by N. Fabal Name’s Guapo, I run the streets around here. From the Sedanos on Palm ...

Daddy Dearest by Sue Buckwell

Daddy Dearest by Sue Buckwell My father was a psychoanalyst and instilled in me a fear of ...

The Day of the Dead by RLB Hartmann

The Day of the Dead by RLB Hartmann It's October. The air has grown mild and dry, ...

Step Two by Julia Newman

Step Two by Julia Newman I wish I could sit down right here. Would that be so ...

Turtle Dreams by Susan Dickman

Turtle Dreams  by Susan Dickman She inhabited a different universe. Metaphorically stuffed cotton in her ears while ...

The Beating by K. Zeth Ozbirn

The Beating  by K. Zeth Ozbirn “He’s still down there,” the guard said as he turned to ...

Josephine by Fritzroy Austin Sterling

Josephine by Fritzroy Austin Sterling   When Josephine strutted into Saturday Morning, the Sky King of both horizons ...

Manufactured Greatness: By Joshua Carroll

She was standing in the rain. Unmoving, while the tiny drops spattered her blue dress. I watched her from the window. I wanted to walk out to her, tell her that she was the only thing in the world. No, she was holding me back. My feet were glued to the floor, petrified by the truth. The lights of the cab appeared down the street, her head didn’t move. Her shoes were white with spots of mud from the edge of the sidewalk and bits of grass clung to them desperately.

Ugly in Stereo by Stacie Adams

The woman whispered to our mother as she swung a greasy brown finger over our heads. “God must hate you,” she added before wandering away. My mother’s tense white face stayed that way for the remainder of our shopping excursion. In bed that night Chloe asked me what the woman whispered to our mother in the store.

Electra by Sonia B. SyGaco

The neighbors curled beneath their blankets, waited until the rhythm of anger from the flashing lights and thunder’s cursing abated, heard the first cry of an infant. The husband, an albularyo (folk healer) must have cut the umbilical cord and tied it into a knot. The wife exhausted from such strenuous labor, eyes now closed. The day had been unkind to her, the unbearable pain, brim of death.

Day 9961 by Felix Ames Glas

In a room, a large living room, Duo sat, his head in his hand, blocking his eyes from the rays of a dying sun. Around him, Louis and Clark, the other tenants--cats--played. The cats were mock fighting, oblivious in feline bliss; meanwhile, Duo was breaking down, National Geographic-like, rapidly becoming an endangered specie. His mind it turned out was not impervious to pain, loneliness