“Welcome to the 47th Annual Twins Convention”

Pamela Painter

That is printed on two signs on either side of the hotel’s bar and lounge. Bunches of paired balloons—two blue, two pink, two yellow—sway beside the arched doorway. No wonder the desk clerk at the Carson City Hilton handed me…

Ambush

Pamela Painter

My agent calls. He never calls. He says Gordon wants to see me tomorrow in his office. Gordon is the show’s writer, producer, creative genius. He never talks to us actors, hardly ever comes by the set. My agent says,…

Pamela Painter: Two Stories

Great fiction writers aim for precision. That means more than finding the right words, as important as that doubtlessly is.

“Hippy Boyfriend”

Alyson “Allie” Brill

I’m not goin’ anywhere. I live in a basement studio apartment with a cracked toilet seat and a peeling paint job. My buddies come over and tell me my place looks like a crack den. I don’t clean things. I’m…

Clouds

Elias Chess

Clouds. Always clouds. They’re why my life is as it is today. Fucking clouds. I can’t believe I used to lie out in a field for hours, just so I could look up at the sky and be with the…

An Old Friend (Variation of Little Red Riding Hood)

Timothy Hayden Hamilton

~ The Reunion Wolf lurks through a dim alleyway in the hood, picking through garbage, trying to go un-noticed. A low pitched idling engine echoes down the alley, he pays it no mind. The soft whine of old car brakes…

Ruby

Alyson “Allie” Brill

Deep, silky brown hair cascaded down her small frame. She had wide eyes and soft pink china doll cheeks. Sparkling on her right ring finger was a ruby red ring with a gold band. 21-year-old Ruby began packing for her…

Little Red

Eli Chess

In the deserts of the American wasteland, every living being is always hungry, always thirsty. Some are fortunate enough to live next to a relatively clean water source where resourceful Roamers erected giant, tremulous windmills to pump water from deep…

The Sun of my Smile

Laura Sekarputri

Every time I look at my face in a mirror, I spot its dry skin, go away and forget the way I look. I hate the color of my skin. Like the ugly duckling, I’m the darkest among my family…

The Blue Vase

Ellen Francese

The empty blue vase stood on the round white table in the kitchen. Early morning light crept through the jalousie’s slats and extended its fingers to the smooth surface of the vase. The glass was cool. Soft sunlight travelled across…