
Two Arms and a Leg
by Jeff Bakkensen
We split her up by dropping names into a hat. I got both arms, Paul a leg, Ryan the head, Matt the other leg, and Drew the coveted torso.

The Book of Kirby
by Don Foster
With little time before his kids start fisticuffing one another, before his wife dumps the weekend itinerary on him, Kirby rolls himself out of bed this Saturday to work on his spiritual overhaul.

A Hollywood Education
by Alan Swyer
When he first came to LA and had not yet established much of a social life, Shulman’s evenings, more often than not, were spent in pursuit of old movies.

Mornin Fever
by Bob Beach
The first dayshine spilled hurryish over Miz Pennypacker’s tarpaper roof and splashed the front yard like a stream of melty butter.

A Place That Had No Name
by Justin Carmickle
Yolanda 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.

Everywhere Stars
by Laura Grace Weldon
The weary face behind her in the bathroom mirror startled Lia. Her mother usually slept in after a late shift at the bowling alley.

Two Stories by Marie McKay
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.

Melissa’s Green
by Douglas J. Ogurek
RAI—that’s short for Romanowski Architects, Inc.—had a lot of asses, but the biggest ass was Dorkwimp Buttkisser.

Escape from North Africa
by Tom Sheehan
Hardly with a hop, skip and jump did Frank Parkinson come home from Tobruk, Egypt, North Africa, madness, and World War II in general.

Flashes
by Mitchell Grabois
This is not a job I ever expected to have, but I couldn’t keep farming, not enough land, machines too old.

Song
by Mary Ann McGuigan
My mother had convinced herself—and us—that the landlord would never go through with it.

The Feather Pillow
by Horacio Quiroga
Her honeymoon, when it came, induced in her the seed of dread.

Dancing Bautas for the Ashes’ Day
by Russell Hemmell
Ca’ Dario stands in front of us, sombre, sleek and precious, often avoided and always dreaded.

Bryan with a Y
by Samuel Cole
I touch his shoulder, wishing to touch everything else. Now. Here. Out in the open.

Rolling News
by Peter Cowlam
Minions in a free press, let loose with a vision, wash tides of stucco from their blades as work ends on a coastal tower.