Tag Archives: Fiction

The Hidden Majestic

by Abbie Doll

She woke up to a mountain range in her mouth.

Such an awe-inspiring sight caught her by surprise, despite the numbing weight of her still-present drowsiness. She stood there gawking at her reflection, bewildered by the distinctly Himalayan scene sprouting from her mandible crust. A series of jagged, panicky exhalations fogged up the glass, while her minty-mist breath worked to sculpt a pleasant-yet-bleak bathroom atmosphere. The air felt thinner somehow, and the landscape of her mind felt just as clouded, just as inaccessible as the sky-piercing peaks she saw there in the mirror. Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

2806 Cloverleaf

by Anthony Otten

With you and your dad gone, I live in the quiet. Mostly I’m fine with it. When I want my conversation fix I sit in my wicker chair on the porch, like I am today, and wait for the mailman. He’s a young Black guy in a blue cap and shorts. Real polite. I don’t know, maybe I scare him. Old white lady in socks and sandals, feet too sore for shoes. Squinty little glasses I hardly need since Medicare did my cataracts.  Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

Surrender

by Kristi Ferguson

He learned if he could make Mom laugh, everything would be okay.

He relied on that certainty when she discovered him sneaking to the corner store, first for candy, then for beer and cigarettes. He used it when he was months behind on child support after the first unplanned pregnancy, before the DNA results came back and the baby turned out not to be his. It was there again when he admitted to the second baby, which was his, after Mom received a midnight Facebook message from the pregnant ex-girlfriend, telling her everything.  Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

The Gargoyles of il Duomo di Milano

by William Hawkins

Not much troubles the gargoyles of il Duomo di Milano. They feel neither rain nor wind nor the scratch of lichen. They jut into space blind and deaf. Though I have heard they do know the sun, as even light can enter stone.   Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

Axe-Throwing with Seniors

by J. T. Townley

Most of us can barely lift the axes, much less fling them at the target. Not only do we miss the bullseye, most of our throws clatter to the floor. Any blades that sink into the wood, even well outside those concentric circles, send us into conniptions of artificial joy and feigned delight.

Whose bright idea was this?  Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction