Dad always told me there was an incinerator back here behind the gas station. Just didn’t think I’d ever see it for myself. And I especially didn’t think I’d see Mom’s stuff burning inside it. But life comes at you fast. Very fast. You have to keep up. Keep up or you’ll die.
Continue reading “The Incinerator and the Sinkhole by Christopher Miller”
The month before my thirteenth birthday, my parents’ marriage stumbled. Its arms pinwheeled for balance, and it might have recovered if not for the present I got. It was that seemingly insignificant little thing that pushed their marriage from behind, sending it over the edge of no return to land chest first onto the steel rebar of divorce below.
Continue reading “And the Winner by Knockout Is . . .by Héctor Hernández”
My family used to have roots connecting us, like the trees. We could speak to each other without a word mouthed aloud, sentiments flowing through invisible strings attaching us all. The roots vibrated with each family triumph and wilted during shared sorrows, singing silent songs between us as we went through life together. My older sister, Joan, used to say the roots were blessings.
Continue reading “Root Rot by Cailee Combs”
Angel was sprawled across the couch, the TV turned to Seinfeld. She had a cigarette in one hand and a magazine in the other.
“Wish you’d at least take that shit outside.” Grace stripped off her soaking coat, peeled a dead worm off the sole of her shoe. She stuck her sneakers on the heater to dry.
Angel rolled her eyes, a puff of smoke escaping her lips. “And hello to you too, baby.”
Continue reading “In Want of a Home by Alannah Tjhatra”
This piece is another work in translation from Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton. A glimpse of another culture but the lesson or message is, I believe, universal.
Continue reading “Auld Author”
You can believe in hauntings and not in ghosts. You shrink a bit when you enter your parents’ house for Christmas dinner and feel your powerless teenage self slip her tired arms around you and whisper a reminder that you’re not enough and somehow also too much. The rage that boils in your chest while you watch your father criticize your mom only finds a way to possess you at this table, in this room. The icy indifference that serves as your answers to all your mom’s questions is a ghost of the child you killed so you could survive long enough to become an adult.
Continue reading “Christmas Spirits by Anna Sahli”
Fear is gnawing at my insides when I snap my compact shut. Getting caught up in my looks is of no use now. I’m tired – beyond tired, actually, and no amount of powder or mascara will change that. When I meet him, I know I’ll feel naked and transparent. He’ll see right through my façade because I’m half him. My tricks come from him, so he’s bound to know them already.
Continue reading “The Arrival by Anna Elin Kristiansen”
Lux Brandon is sitting at his kitchen table at 6:51 am, comparing a printed document to a Word file on his tablet computer. He writes on the paper to note a difference between the two sources. He rubs his shadow-bearded chin in frustration.
Continue reading “Equal Rights by Frederick K Foote”
Mother, the one who birthed us, was the one who turned the oven on. Tossed us in there, my older sister Nan and me, as though we were turkeys at Thanksgiving. She was too strong for us to resist, though we tried, squirming, kicking. But she was still strong.
Continue reading “Step by Yash Seyedbagheri”
Characters presented in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to humans walking the face of this earth, today or in the past is purely coincidental.
literally stories 