by Antoine Bargel
Had a liaison with Mr. Basilewski, residing at 59, Saint Peter Street, who had been involved with Mrs. Ferrari, to whom he had left a considerable sum.
by Jill Jepson
She was cool as ice cream, and twice as smooth. She’d done this a thousand times. Me, a couple hundred.
by Dr. Donna Roberts
Did you ever recount an experience from your past, only to be told that’s not how it happened?
by Mary Ann Cooper
In August of 1971, I was twenty years old and miserable. All of my friends were away at college while I was still at home with my family.
For those who know East Vancouver, Triumph and / Pandora Streets run in parallel.
My son is in 1st grade. I have recently separated from his father, so he and I are living without a Dad in the house. School started recently and while he says he loves school he completely falls apart when it’s time to go.
Word counts, book sales, even romance: the only astrological guide a writer needs.
Review by Joy Ralph
How does an author tell a fresh and interesting story when an audience already knows how everything is going to end?
by Angela Kubinec
I have been working on a script for a movie that harkens back to the tradition of righteous revenge in the fresh light of the twenty-first century, an age where some dogs eat more nutritious food than people.
by Emile DeWeaver
Watching the coverage of the Ghost Ship fire that struck my hometown of Oakland, I’m struck by how, as a nation, we play the blame game.
wake up in a dreary nuclear afterworld / another murder / another drug bust
by Thomas Elson
Two days after Walter T. Andrews received his prognosis, he sat with his second wife, Shirley, and detailed for the first time both his lymphatic cancer and the extent of his estate.
by Kent Oswald
After the election it's all normal, except it isn't—as nobody can define normal anymore (even on a warmish NYC evening in November).
In Lucy we see the parts of ourselves that are at once hardened, and yet remain vulnerable, toughened and yet desperate, conquered and yet not fully defeated.
by DC Diamondopolous
Army Private First Class Samantha Cummings stood at attention holding a stack of boxes, her unwashed black hair slicked back in a ponytail and knotted military style.