Every morning, the Archivist arrived just before the sun burned off the smog. He rode the elevator to the fourth floor of the Memory Tower…the east wing…Department of Significance. The lift doors opened and he unlocked his office with a key labeled VANITY in scuffed gold.
Continue reading “Ecclesiastes by Zark Fekete”
HOW WE MET
You have to understand that my first glimpse of her was mostly obscured. The bar was dim and crowded, and I’d already had more than my share of scotch. And wasn’t feeling picky, having struck out three times already — so, after that first glimpse, I sidled right up and said the first slick thing I could think of, which ended up being something about how her dress caught the light. Only then did she turn to face me head-on, showing me what she was and exactly what I’d just done.
Continue reading “My Relationship With Frances Marie Sauvegeot, 1973 – 2001 By Martin Reid Sanchez”
It was a backyard party with an announcement. Bev’s promotion had been long coming and George Filmore had broadcast invited her coworkers and as many neighbors as he could get hold of. The two groups, unknown to each other and with little in common other than Bev, exchanged oil and water chit chat, slithering off each other without really blending.
Continue reading “The House Guest by Edward Ahern”
Kyla scanned the exhibit, looking for the kangaroo. When she asked her dad where it had gone, he shrugged. She asked again, and all he said was, “Sorry, honey. This has been happening more and more recently.”
Continue reading “The First Thing She Noticed Disappear Was a Kangaroo by Michael Degnan”
William stands on the upper level of a parkade leaning on a shopping cart some employee had forgotten to rack up with the others. He’s waiting for a friend to pick up a jug of organic milk. He knows his friend will be forever and come up the elevator loaded with ‘two-for-one’s’ and any specials he can find on pasta, ice cream and pineapple juice, not to mention a stack of car magazines. William doesn’t mind waiting. It’s two in the morning and a beautiful night in San Francisco, the concrete rooftop a checker board of symmetrical parking spaces, the only vehicle on the horizon his friend’s sky blue Dodge Caravan, clean and American in its loneliness.
Continue reading “Man With a Shopping Cart by Tom Bentley-Fisher”
The dog never speaks without a pencil in his paw. On good days he may draw for you a line, a rectangle, a box, a room that becomes; what do you want? Might it be a bodega in some Latin American country, a taverna, a shack where drinks and mescal are served, a room where women also give away their forgetfulness potions. He is never quite precise as to which, and the voice that accompanies the blossoming picture is merely shading pencil.
Continue reading “The Dog Who Could Draw by Stephen J Kimber”
Once upon a time, there lived a community called Ingbian, meaning “Relatives.” The community was called so because they did things together in one accord. They were deeply rooted in their traditional beliefs and had not embraced the gospel early. They worshipped multiple gods, often visiting shrines and performing rituals. Many of the community members were so engrossed in their spiritual practices that they engaged in astral projection at night.
Continue reading “The Cursed Tree of Ingbian by Torsaa Emmanuel”
In the marketplace, a couple of miles from my military base, a brown-skinned indigenous woman was walking with such grace and a mischievous face that she caught my eye, slowed my walk, and reversed my direction.
Continue reading “Beast of Burden by Frederick K Foote”
The parking lot was empty. But that wasn’t unusual, partly because it was midnight and partly because, since the sparkling new Saver General came to town, Dan Burns’s General Merchandiser rarely had any customers anymore. Dan learned with dread the coming of the Saver General and he knew that, slow or fast, the death of his store was probably imminent. Before he had closed up earlier that evening, he stood looking out the front door onto the empty lot. It was getting cold. Winter was certainly coming and in a high desert climate it would be dry and cold for months. Dan didn’t mind that too much. In the not-so-distant past, the chill would keep the townspeople coming in for heaters, batteries, warm socks, and hatchets to break icy ponds so livestock could drink. Now the cold seemed to make things more desolate and hopeless. Dan turned from the front door and left out the back to his truck. At least the truck was paid for. That would help him survive a bit longer. Probably.
Continue reading “A Whale of a Time by Kelly Hossaini”
Emily’s in bed one night, brooding about her manager’s warning that Emily’s too aggressive, and thinking if she was a man, she’d be called ambitious, when there’s a puff of smoke, and an elf appears.
Continue reading “Emily Follows the Elf by Ed Kratz”
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