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Fiction
Nonfiction
Poetry
Cafe
Flash
Resources
Puddles Like Pillows
by Suzanne Conboy-Hill
Things began disappearing round about March. Just little things—a newspaper left on a bench, or a sandwich wrapper—and not blown away or tumbled into a corner, just gone.
Threnody for Paul Morphy
by Brian Glaser
The flowers are everywhere, pungent and bright. / It could be autumn, eighteen-fifty-seven.
Columbus Road
by David Buchanan
It got to the point that I just didn’t want the other guys to even see her. Sharing—a tent, a cockpit, a shower—gets old during a deployment, and I wished she would stay away.
Counting
by Jodi Barnes
Often she dreams she doesn’t get into her dead boyfriend’s car. She dances solo in her stupor and calls her mother who’d promised, “I’ll pick you up; no questions asked.”
Ana’s Dance
by Donna Miscolta
The windows are open to the blue-black sky, but there is no breeze to move the heavy air inside the apartment. Across the street, the diner blinks its electric blue sign.
Secrets in the Landscape
by Cathy Herbert
The day he went into the hospital that last time, he told me he was not at all afraid of death. He did not believe in God.
I Have to Catch Fish so Jason Can Get Married
by Matthew Sullivan
Jason has four children all born from different mothers. Child support will glean most of what he makes this fishing season. Does he know that? I won’t tell him.
Fragments of My Rape
by Janna Vought
It began / with the Stain. / The Stain, my Stain / red on a white bedspread / covered with bristles / of nylon thread.
Precision
by Carol Hamilton
Scarlatti’s sheet music lies / on the floor near the piano / and a catalog for later perusal / is sprawled in full color / near the computer.
I Sent an Opossum to Preschool in Place of My Son and No One Noticed
by Steve Edwards
Last fall, after much consideration, my wife and I decided that we could no longer send our son to Sunshine Meadows Preschool.
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:
Love and Hot Chicken
by Mary Liza Hartong
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review