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Recent Fiction

Paper Nests, by Laurel Miram—Pale yellow pads are best. They contrast well with black Sharpies. No one can miss a bumblebee.

Recent Poetry

If it Wasn’t for You, by Bill Ratner—I’d be a baby without skin, a parrot / without a little soap-shaped food cake, / a truck driver out of a job.

Recent CNF

Don’t Let Them See You, by Anonymous—I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.

New in the Bistro (our blog)

The Day Your Heart Breaks, by Stephen Parrish—The day my heart broke was the day I decided to become a writer. From the age of ten I’d wanted to be an astronaut. Granted, the choice wasn’t very original, but originality didn’t concern me at ten, the stars and planets did. It was at ten I received my first eyeglasses. Until then I had only been able to see the brightest stars, maybe twenty or so. The first time I went outside at night wearing glasses the view overwhelmed me.

Don’t Let Them See You

Don’t Let Them See You

by Anonymous
I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.
Distance

Distance

by Treena Thibodeau
A week before the party, I text my newfound brother and sister about social distancing. The wording has to be right; I don’t want to sound uptight.
If it Wasn’t for You

If it Wasn’t for You

by Bill Ratner
I’d be a baby without skin, a parrot / without a little soap-shaped food cake, / a truck driver out of a job.
Gospel

Gospel

by Roy Bentley
I was raised with religion, if you count my granny Potter / reading to me from The King James Bible
After That, Try This:

After That, Try This:

by Christiana Louisa Langenberg
Stare at your reflection in the storefront window. She looks familiar, you think.
Towel Racks

Towel Racks

by Wilson MacConnachie
And then I was buying gas station beers and cigarettes, because for some reason I wasn’t supposed to show up to rehab sober.
Paper Nests

Paper Nests

by Laurel Miram
Pale yellow pads are best. They contrast well with black Sharpies. No one can miss a bumblebee.
Letter to My Coroner

Letter to My Coroner

by Christina Litchfield
We meet on a Monday. You hate Mondays because the weekend means car accidents and those are often tricky and unpleasant.
It all began around a campfire…

Beautiful language

is meant to be heard as well as read, and in fact words were vocalized eons before they were ever committed to clay or parchment. Storytelling began around campfires. We seek prose and poetry that continue the tradition.

Contributor Spotlight:

by Judith Waller Carroll

How to submit to
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Open Contests

Best Writing Contests of 2022, recommended by Reedsy

Lascaux Vol 8

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review