The neighborhood has gone mad. During the night, a rolling cavalry of invasive ivy–on the move all summer, growing a foot each day—surged onto the back porch and made for the door. At first light Millicent is up, out of bed, dressed and at the ready. Continue reading ““Millicent’s Curse” by Kathlene Postma”
All you have to do is spit into a plastic vial and put it in the mail and send it off somewhere, and then in a couple of weeks you’ll get the results, and these are going to tell you who you are. Continue reading ““Blood” by Susan Taylor Chehak”
Both men plodded down the hallway, ignoring the clean linen they knocked off service carts. They found her in a freshly bleached room, just before the barricaded emergency exit. She was working coins from the bedside table into her apron. Continue reading ““Far Cry from Catalonia” by Chris Marchesano”
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, The San Pedro River Review, as well as other publications.
My mother and I eat Amish pie
at a place on Oak and 6th. Continue reading ““Goshen, Indiana” by Hunter Boone”
beneath my skin
and I want to slap everyone
who says, with a smile,
“How’s it going?” Continue reading ““Not a Nice Girl” by Lisa Shirley”
Ahead of me lay nothing but empty highway. It was evening as I walked along the lonely mountain road on the outskirts of Sierra City. Slate gray twilight shadows cloaked the twisting, two-lane asphalt. The day’s heat lingered on the silent pavement as I strolled past a long-closed lumberyard, the battered sign rotating in the breeze like a hanged man. Another mile and I’d reach the dirt lane leading to my rented cabin overlooking Wild Plum Creek.
No one will call to collect these parasites and take them home. Continue reading ““Colony” by Tessy Ward”
He rolls down the window and stares right at me, eyes going up and down my face, small breasts, and legs. “Hey, baby.” He says it softly, like he is talking to a kitten. The boy in the back has strong, muscular arms, a man’s body, not like the boys my age. He blows out his breath and says, “God damn.”