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”
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”
On Saturday night, Leon and his friend Max “The Rhythm Wonders,” played guitar and sang at Tom Kosk’s stag party. Tom was engaged to Samantha Ciaccia, the wedding scheduled in one week. He was already living with her, in a double wide trailer in the bush under Mount Baldy.
Continue reading “Leon’s Magic Love by Harrison Kim”
On Monday, the most enthusiastic girlfriend in the world had left late and rushed to work at Nicky’s. Running through a cloudburst I’d cheered her from the balcony. I was busy tidying our apartment in readiness for cleaning, after which I’d head downstairs to begin a few maintenance jobs for the building owner, when I glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window, which my girlfriend calls ‘the French doors’ (she longs for a garden) to see the weather clearing and the sun had begun to tumble-dry the world.
Continue reading “On Monday Nothing Seemed Out of Place by Antony Osgood”
Time wastes the paint on our faces and ornaments. It roughens the once-smooth stone we were carved from. Yet behind the crumbling stone, we shine.
Our voices blend as we step from the wall, magic infusing our limbs and lighting our smiles. We sing the songs of ancient apsaras before us.
Continue reading “Apsaras’ Dance by Kelly Matsuura”
I took long walks into the insomniac’s night. Wild music thumped on the deserted sidewalk. I peered into the smeary barroom window. A man in coveralls slept with his head on his arms at a table. Pool balls cracked next to his ear. Angry hairy faces, full of booze were engaged in the battle of the green felt, and blood may spill. I walked onward before I drew some menace from the watering hole. Then I met the traveler on a starless street corner.
Continue reading “A Starless Street Corner by Christopher J Ananias.”
On the canvas, the sun glints off the edge of the pool where the turquoise water meets the azure sky. The palm trees almost sway in the sea breeze, the water shimmers as if tickling the sides of the pool. In a dimly lit room, towards the back of the museum, a single spotlight in an otherwise empty gallery focused its beam on a painting of a swimming pool.
To the left of the painting sat a lifeguard.
Continue reading ” Dive Right In byJames Flanagan”
The Forest. 1995-Nov-07. Prince George, BC. 1805 hours.
Mom taught me the stories of our people, from the moon goddess, whose light enchanted the night, to the banshee, whose scream was an omen of death. She practiced the paganism and witchcraft she’d learned from Nana, who’d long since gone to be with Donn—Lord of the Dead.
Continue reading “Donn and the Mourning Moon by Brandon Nadeau”
The D train doors closed just as Sammy stepped onto the platform of the West 4th Street station. Slightly miffed, he was nevertheless glad to be out of the January cold. He removed his pipe from the pocket of his overcoat, filled the bowl with loose tobacco, tamped it down into a wad, and lit it with a strike anywhere match he ran across the metal No Smoking sign on the station wall.
Continue reading “The Doppler Effect by Mark Russ”
There are two types of nurses: the ones who believe in ghosts, and the ones who are lying.
We don’t talk about it much, especially now that the war is over. You can feel it more than see it when we’re together—a collective haunting, invisible guests at the dinner table. The conversations lulls and our gazes drift and we stare at strangers we’ve seen somewhere before. Was it the operating table? A hospital bed? The morgue?
You do this kind of thing for years and eventually everyone becomes a ghost of someone, somewhere. We don’t talk about it much.
But sometimes we get drunk.
Continue reading “The Magician of Sixth Avenue by Sam Mueller”
literally stories 