“Mr. Jacobs?” someone says. Roger tries to answer but can’t talk, can’t move a finger. His eyes seem glued shut. “You try,” the voice says.
“Honey, do you hear me?” Roger recognizes the voice of his wife, Carolyn.
“Roger, you’re in the hospital. You had an accident.” Roger has no idea what she’s talking about. “This man is Dr. Johnson.”
Continue reading “In the Blink of an Eye by David Henson”
The clouds moved quickly over the tops of the cypress trees. A storm came over the horizon and the sky darkened. They drug up the jug lines, checked the last of the crab pots, and made for the river. John jumped in the dark water, pulling the lilies from the rudder. He turned the engine on and off as the bay boat bobbed through the duckweed. Following the light, they came out of the back of the bayou, and the branches looped over the path and hung low for a while, then opened up to the Mississippi. The carp were leaping out of the water. The boat sat low and John drug his hand through the wake. The spray kicked up into Ellie’s face.
Continue reading “The Last Good Day by, Thomas Allen Hayden”
Ella wished she could sit here in her car, parked in the driveway of her parents’ house, for the rest of this slowly dissolving afternoon, into the lulling dusk, all through the gray owls echoing at midnight, to the quietly fading stars at dawn, and then just leave. Never entering the house at all. She would just sit here, letting the silence seep into her skin, sheltered by the insulated interior of her SUV.
Continue reading “Sky Lights by Melissa Dyrdahl”
It’s dusk and Gail’s probably pitching a bitch by now anyway, so Carl stops down the street from their walk-up and takes a moment to examine his new sunburn in the lighted courtesy mirror. He can’t help smiling.
He’s poking his forehead with a finger after parking in the lot when Gail calls out through the bedroom window.
Continue reading “Did You Hear Me? By Mick Bennett”
I remember my niece best as a child: red hair, faded blue eyes, skinny arms and legs; her movements so fast and agile that I called her Rabbit. She was a rare soul. This became apparent when, at four years old, she entertained her parents by gently guiding their old cat, Charlie, towards their neighbor’s timid puppy. Her small hands coaxed them closer until they sniffed each other tentatively, her face brightening with a hopeful smile. But after that greeting, the cat lashed out with a paw, leaving behind a bloody cut and a whimpering dog.
Continue reading “Book of Condolences by Evan Parker”
The bubble gum is a large wad in my mouth. I chew it until it is soft and then produce a limp bubble between my lips. I suck it back in and start again, chewing and molding the gum between my teeth hoping for better results.
Continue reading “Good Girls and Goddesses by Rachel Sievers”
I only eat meat, what the kids nowadays call a carnivore diet. Out back of the house, I got a garden, but that’s for the wife and kids. I haven’t had a vegetable since I was thirteen years old, and for that, I blame my pops. Blame my mama for other things, like why I save every dollar I earn for booze and smokes and complain about the lights being left on in rooms nobody’s in. They’re the reason my two boys are running around with ripped jeans and holes in their shoes, why I got a woodstove instead of a furnace, and why I don’t allow pets under my roof, no matter how much the kids beg me.
Continue reading “This Sorrowful Home by Devin James Leonard”
It’s late in the afternoon in late October. I’m at the zoo with my ten-year-old son, Elijah. His mother, my wife Sally, chose our son’s name. Sally comes from a religious family and goes to Mass daily. Elijah’s staring at the elephants, the largest land mammals on earth. One of the three is particularly massive. He has a huge head, large ears, and a long trunk that is sucking up drinking water from a big puddle of rainwater. My son and I have been coming here most weekends as of late. Ever since I lost my better paying job and Sally started working part-time. I’ve been coming here since I was a small boy. Elephants have been a main attraction here for as long as I can remember.
Continue reading “At the Zoo by Gil Hoy”
There are facts as cool as gravity: If you drop a jam lid, it will fall jammy-side down. Humans make many myths. The guy who takes senior photos will be the single creepiest guy your senior has ever met.
Continue reading “Mind the Gap by Angela Townsend”
Sometimes I feel sick remembering how I talked to him. I want to go back and shake myself – No, Robert! No! Cut it out! But I did and I can’t undo it. Besides, he only ever mentions it in passing and when he does I sort myself out. I suppose he thinks I might shout again, but I don’t want to. I hated that I did.
Continue reading “Guitar Lessons by Otto Alexander”
