And When You Found Him, What Did He Say?
by James Hartman
The park is close to the chaos of Michigan’s largest shopping outlets, and I guess I chose this park for its proximity to this chaos.
The Great Apocalypse Hoax
by Tommy Dean
Even CNN was reporting the end of the world. There were rules, and we were about to break them.
A Place You Can See the Stars
by Cathy Ulrich
Her baby will be born fire; her baby will burn. She feels it, feverish during the pregnancy, exhaling smoke from her mouth.
Two Stories by Marie McKay
The thin edge of the paper slices the tip of my finger, but I continue so that blood paints a hole where an eye might have been.
Rolling News
by Peter Cowlam
Minions in a free press, let loose with a vision, wash tides of stucco from their blades as work ends on a coastal tower.
Object Permanence
by Amye Archer
It is dark. The summer is ending, but we can still taste her on our tongues. Twenty beers between us has made you hungry for me.
Three in the Morning and You Don’t Smoke Anymore
by Peter J. Stavros
It’s that thing that wakes you at three in the morning, with a gasp and a startle.
Honeymoon
by Hamdy Elgammal
The boy and the girl sat on the edge of the highway, their backs against a wall fifty miles out of Sacramento.
The Other Baby
by Jackleen Holton Hookway
The temperature in the Central Valley had dropped to a record low. I scraped the frost off the windshield before I drove myself to the hospital.
Is This the Promised End?
by Nina Kotyantz
Morris Brandson in his beige raincoat—the one he inherited from Arthur Miller’s Willy—trots along the damp grounds of his forsaken city, fighting the ruthless blows of the raindrops in the wind.
Take Five With Leesa Cross-Smith
Leesa’s stories invite the reader to the table, pour them a couple fingers of something good, and leave them reeling.
The Practice of Eating an Apple With Glass Teeth
by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella
I try to pierce apple flesh with my incisors but always avoid using my tree stump molars.
Writers Make Terrible Partners
by Levi Andrew Noe
The clouds stand poised above us like sumo wrestlers in leotards, bursting at the seams. I chuckle to myself and you ask why, but I can’t just say, “Because leotard is a funny word.”
