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The chair barely fit him anymore. The trail, which led from the cabin to the lake tempted him, but he waited until he heard the screen door to the cabin slap behind her. Across the lake, a fisherman’s small trolling motor sputtered and coughed. He steadied himself on his cane, and pried himself up. She came alongside and took his hand. She was ready but he was not so sure.

“Quit staring at her, Lou. Just say something.”

“I’m not staring, Rob.”

Rob rolls his eyes.

The table is covered with crisp linen on which are set well-chosen wines. Spills will occur, devilish as blood. Salt is an effective remedy in cold soaking before dawn. No-one sees the under world. Tired and hungry maids, no more than children, work by lamplight. It is dark and cool for the wines.

My Mother Laughing by?Dan Sklar My mother laughing. The sound of my mother laughing, closing her eyes, mouth wide open, the sound coming out. A Chinese Restaurant next to a movie theater. They play double-features in the afternoon. You can see a double feature, then go out for Chinese food. It is 1962. I am…

The night before my 17th birthday, my mother and father spent the day in the kitchen rolling sushi, my very favorite. If I had closed my eyes walking down the stairs, I could have duped myself into believing I had entered a wharf off the coast of Cape Cod. My mother?s hands were glowing with fish oils and lingering rice. My father kept clasping the bottom of his palms to the sides of his head whenever he tried to eat more than his personal best of wasabi. I only looked on, but every time he swallowed, I could swear my sinuses cleared just from watching him. Sheryl Crow was complaining about some guy who had a secret lover from my mother?s phone in her back pocket turned up loud. I stood and watched, tapping my hips to the countertops lightly.

Well things are happening so quickly around here, I thought I would take a sometime to tell you about exciting things going on here at EWR. We are making some big changes, and they are happening quickly, so here we go.

The Dead Tree by Lee Ann Petropoulos There is a dead tree by the neighbor?s house.? Too close for comfort, really.? With each strong Midwestern storm that blows through, the neighbors hope and pray that the tree stands, that this is not the storm that brings it down on their home.? The skeletal nature of…

Tanned arms swing from the windows of a bone-white vehicle. The truck rattles west, where the sun is bleeding all down the horizon.

An angel was flying over a town with its wings snow-white and fluffy. It fluttered above red tiled roofs and variegated chimneys. It hovered over some young folks with their eyes lifted up to the sky, and it was just a girl?s drawing. With her aureate hair and timid smile from above, Gala appeared like an angel herself: she was very tall, quite young and extremely shy.

His last name was Krasowicz. His family was from Chicago though he had grown up in Guatemala, Honduras, Ecuador and Chile. Because of his dad?s various jobs. An interesting family background for someone who was now a chubby, mostly bald nobody, sitting alone in a seedy bar in the outskirts of Nowheresville, USA. Strangely, he remembered that disturbing incident from his college days. Alcohol was the key to bad memories.

A child reaches her hand up into a glittering web. She is caught under a spell of shimmering strings made of threads so fine that they hum with music of the passing wind. It is as if you can almost hear the gentle sound of glass raindrops falling on blue and white crossed strings

The ambulance screamed through the night. Its exciting lights flashing there red and white warning. When my eyes opened, I stared blankly into the gaze of an Emergency Medical Technician.

Wishful Thinking by Jules A Riley ?You?re smiling?? Ludvik frowned.. ? It?s nothing,? replied Asdis. ?Come on, why?? ?I was thinking about the break.? ?I?ve enjoyed our short break too.? ?I was also thinking about the last ten years.? ?Ah.? ?We?re the world?s longest courting couple.? ?You know how it is. My mother, your father.?…

JUNK by Robert Kalkreuter She tore through the clutter on the back seat of her husband?s car, scattering the pieces of yellowed newspaper, the empty vienna sausage cans, the crumpled, unanswered mail, the bladeless ax handle. A pair of stained panties. Whose she didn?t know. She launched it all like aimless confetti against the windows…

Heavenly Bodies by Frank Hubeny “I wish I had a heavenly body, but I’m a big, fat black hole. I suck the goodness from the Boston cream universe.” “Jane! What are you talking about? Fat? You’re 5 feet 6, 110 pounds, gorgeous. You hate donuts.” “I’m writing a poem, Brian. Don’t bug me.” “Again?” “A…