Emily Bradley wanted a smart phone for her tenth birthday. Her mother and step-father had been reluctant to give her one because they felt it was a luxury for a child to have
The Deceased’s Wife by Charles Milton Lee
Three elderly women stood huddled in a corner of the funeral home, whispering and glaring at the deceased’s wife.
Strutters’ Ball by Barry Basden
Strutters’ Ball by Barry Basden Cleaning out my father’s things I found an old black and white photo, one I’d never seen before. Hidden away all these years. The photo was taken in some kind of hall, a gentlemen’s club perhaps. Joyless carpet, somber wainscoting, a small mirror propped on its rail. Patterned wallpaper and […]
A Quick Twist by Patrick Hanford
Patrick Hanford is a short story author and has been published in Heater Magazine and Elite Critiques Magazine. He is a member of Caprock Writer’s Association and has published on their website.
Crazy by T. E. Cowell
She said, “This is crazy.” She looked at me. “Isn’t this crazy?”
I shrugged. I thought that, sure, maybe it was a little crazy. But I thought it was exciting, too. Crazy or not, I thought it might be crazier if we parted ways and never saw each other again.
Who/Whom? by David Lohrey
David Lohrey grew up in Memphis. His poetry can be found in Otoliths, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Easy Street and Quarterday. In addition, recent poems
Gone but Not Forgotten by Carol M. Gore
Gone but Not Forgotten by Carol M. Gore. Carol lives in Victoria, BC, Canada, and when not writing, work in labour relations for the provincial government.
Dream of a Late Husband By Kris Lester
In her dream, she sat motionless on the couch and watched the T.V., turned to mute. She couldn’t have told you what was on. She wondered what he was doing at this moment.
Supper by Manuel Martin
While the apartment phone rings over and over, the couple cooks awkwardly trying not to involve eye contact with each other. Her shinny blue eyes are fixed on the onion she is chopping,
Nurtured by robert c. radziejewski
I was assembled anonymously according to traditions. I fail to realize my identity. My memory is cyclically deleted. I’m a symbiotic specialized adaption for systematic kinetic force. I have been eaten and I’ve consumed anything radiating energy forces
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