Category:Fiction

Canyon

William John Bert

Just as Leah opens her mouth to tell him she’s pregnant, Russell says, “There’s something blue down there.” The canyon rises to Leah’s left and falls on her right. Without her glasses, it offers only immediate, myopic pleasures—scrappy scrub brush,…

Advice for Writers

Daphne Kalotay

I’ve always loved reading and writing, but it wasn’t until my final semester of college that I realized creative writing was something one could study in a class, with other people.  Though I had secretly been writing would-be novels into…

How to Become a Musician

Peter Maltzan

  Be sure to get a guitar for one of your birthdays, the earlier the better.  (Hopefully it’s not too late for you already.)  Think it will make you cooler.  It will not.  Yet. Practice. Play along with your Pink…

Demeter

Rosemary Hilliard

The skeletal silhouettes of naked birch trees scratched against the window, creaking audibly in a cool, autumnal breeze.  Vast, yellow tendrils of sunlight spilled from the whispering branches, pooling like liquid gold on the windowsill and green grass below.  Far…

The Promise

Kiel Gulick

  My first boss was an old slob, round in the middle, with a bald spot the size of a grapefruit on the back of his head. His name was Mike Palermo and the only job I could have seen…

My Grandmother the Alien

Luis Lascano

Every grandmother is crazy in some way.  The reason for that may be related to the fact of simply having lived a long time.  The “aging element” becomes more evident when they are put in the situation of having grandchildren.…

A Strange Encounter

Michael Hazani

I’m standing in a crowded street, a few feet away from a staircase leading down to the underground station. People blur by, walking purposefully, avoiding eye contact. The sun is already high in the sky; it must be noontime, or…

The Hero

Sue Buzzard

CREATION The Hero was born on a cold winter’s morn in December.  The wind was blisteringly frigid and blowing to shake the eaves from the roof.  The weather was too dangerous to go out or for a doctor to come…

The Sunset Tree

Eric Bolton

It was during the summer in which I was 17 when I became the invisible boy around my house. It wasn’t so much that I had a bad home life. In fact, comparably speaking, I was raised pretty well. It…

Disturbed

S. Kean Cattaneo

The battered gray mailbox at the end of our cul de sac used to read  “400” in red letters before some neighborhood kid (who wasn’t me) stole the four and probably hung it in his bedroom next to a Red…