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We are announcing a new services from EWR. It seems like a natural progression for us to now offer free writing courses from EWR.

Dust has settled in the empty room where mice have found habitation among the spiders and spectres of empires lost in a game of chance. Once – who knows when – someone left a handprint in the dust.

It was a while before he spoke. With apparent unease, he strung words and uttered them in greater reluctance. The bonfire gleamed in his eyes, and each word slashed the air with a cold vibe, demanding absolute attention and a silence spread amongst the group.

Weathervane by Christina Isler “Honey, the package arrived!” I called to my husband. There was no pause in the typing coming from his study. Irritated, I turned my attention to the package before me. Turning back the four rectangles of cardboard, I peered inside. Lifting it out, the light played along the polished copper, each…

Born in socialist flavored independent India of ?68 . My earliest conscious memory: I was two and half, a soft bundle of flesh and bones, when I met with a nasty fire accident in the kitchen. Me lying on the rough coir mattress; my tummy swollen like a tender football because of the internal burns

The girl was naked; her back leaned against the birch tree like she was part of it. Blonde pieces of hair were turned white by the moon. You watched her from the old convertible your dad had given you; it’s top was stuck down behind the back seat.

?I?m glad it?s spring at last,? he thought walking through the sacristy door and towards the altar. ?People drop like flies during the cold months.?

This isn?t a bad story, just a short story about what happened in Oregon. My folks had divorced the year before and Dad flew the coop to Astoria to work on a fishing boat. I rode with my sister on the bus out to spend the summer with him, a twenty-hour trip from Big Timber, Montana. Well, we were on the same bus anyway. She was one of those geeks who wanted to sit in the front and all, and did.

The bed is the biggest problem. It smells like him. Even after stripping it to wash the sheets, as I lay down on the bare mattress waiting for the dryer to finish working its magic, cleansing me of him, I can smell him. It?s a slightly sweet, powdery smell, laced with a hint of something masculine

The heaviness of the shoebox reminded me that it no longer housed its original contents; the fine sheet of dust, evidence of its solitude.

For this Halloween we thought we would run an old, oldy but a goodie (long in the public domain). We hope you enjoy the Brother’s Grimm Hansel and Grethel.