by Bob BeachThe first dayshine spilled hurryish over Miz Pennypacker’s tarpaper roof and splashed the front yard like a stream of melty butter.
by Justin CarmickleYolanda had dragged Ian through eight states by the time he was thirteen. After Ian came out her fourth husband’s fists sent Ian fleeing. He’d gone up north to the gay father he’d never known.
by Laura Grace WeldonThe weary face behind her in the bathroom mirror startled Lia. Her mother usually slept in after a late shift at the bowling alley.
The thin edge of the paper slices the tip of my finger, but I continue so that blood paints a hole where an eye might have been.
by Douglas J. OgurekRAI—that’s short for Romanowski Architects, Inc.—had a lot of asses, but the biggest ass was Dorkwimp Buttkisser.
by Tom SheehanHardly with a hop, skip and jump did Frank Parkinson come home from Tobruk, Egypt, North Africa, madness, and World War II in general.
by Mitchell GraboisThis is not a job I ever expected to have, but I couldn’t keep farming, not enough land, machines too old.
by Mary Ann McGuiganMy mother had convinced herself—and us—that the landlord would never go through with it.
by Horacio QuirogaHer honeymoon, when it came, induced in her the seed of dread.
by Russell HemmellCa’ Dario stands in front of us, sombre, sleek and precious, often avoided and always dreaded.
by Samuel ColeI touch his shoulder, wishing to touch everything else. Now. Here. Out in the open.
by Peter CowlamMinions in a free press, let loose with a vision, wash tides of stucco from their blades as work ends on a coastal tower.
by Claire HoppleSmith’s sister convinced him to move in with her and her husband. They weren’t able to have kids and he could tell even over the phone that she relished the chance to mother him.
by Stephanie HuttonThe boiler’s death rattle shook the walls just as snow started to sprinkle over the moorlands.