by Peter Obourn
We lived in a small town.
My dad had eight fingers.
My mother was beautiful.
My brother, Sam, was trying to figure out where dreams come from. Continue reading
Category Archives: Fiction
The Root Ball
by Amita Murray
The hole is getting bigger. The root ball of the cabbage tree sits in a kink in the corner of the compound, waiting to be transplanted. But her husband is digging away, and her mother is watching, hands on hips, looking grim. Again and again the spade splices the loam. Again and again the soil spatters on the expanding mound of leftovers. Sweat streams down Ahiri’s face, and there are pools developing around her hip bones.
“I guess it’s my turn,” she says.
“I can finish it,” Jesse says.
“I’ll do it,” she says firmly. “Does it have to be bigger?”
“Twice the size of the root ball,” her mother says. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Lost and Found
by Shannon L. Bowring
He searches for her along roads that look like scars winding their way through barren landscapes. He shows her picture to dozens of tired waitresses, indifferent tourists, cynical cops who all see the hopeless face of a long-lost memory in the faded Polaroid the man waves at them. “See that mark there, under her right eye? That’s from where she fell off her bike when she was seven. Are you sure you haven’t seen her around here?”
His story is too familiar. He is searching for another lost soul. In a roadside café in Texas, an old man with thick black hair and wind-roughened skin advises him to ease up on the search. “Ain’t gonna find her, son. We’ve all lost girls like that, some time or another. Best just let her go, boy. Get to movin’ on.” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Friendly Wars
By Ndaba Sibanda
Ever since his appointment to the lofty position of defense minister, he seemed to be gripped by some phobia. Some residents claimed the irrational fear stemmed from the possibility that he did not know what he was expected to do. Others thought that he was a lucky coward who found himself having to oversee a strategic security portfolio which he did not deserve or understand. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Bird on Bull
by Cameron Conaway
Well over half of the white bathrobe trailed across the red hotel hallway carpet, but 9-year-old Singkto flailed on, bouncing into walls as though he were a plastic bag blown by the wind. How he waited for the man whose arms were wrapped around him in the bathtub to fall asleep before he pinched his nose and slipped under the water to gently escape their weight, how he carefully waded through the warm water and willed it not to ripple, how he used the broom handle that pained him earlier to quietly unhook the robe from the door hanger, how he stepped out into the main room, opened the creaking door to freedom and looked back at his wet footprints—none of it mattered now. The heartbeat in his throat pulsed with the adrenaline of next, that monster of uncertainty made of equal parts terror and crisp mountain air. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 