Category: Fiction

HUNGER BY HEIDI JUEL

The river rolls in troughs and waves, a buoyant, undulating rhythm. Upstream, icy rapids dissipate into eddies that breathe and the last of the Jesus bugs leave wakes upon the surface. A salmon pits its strength against the...

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WITNESS BY MICHAEL CROSSMAN

Does a spirit, ripped violently from life and all of its riches, wander, revisiting familiar places? After dinner, the old man excused himself and returned to the campfire. Night was near and the cool, gray marine layer draped...

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ALL FOR ENGLAND BY JOHN BONANNI

HEMLOCK HILL YOUR DESTINATION, YOUR CHOICE The sign says it all. The Hill is where you end up when you are living on the tendrils of a receding world of recognition. Sooner or later, it happens to all of us. The disintegration...

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VIGIL BY ETHAN TINKLER

And when she awoke, the darkness was so complete she could not be sure her eyes were open—or, if even, she was awake. The whispering of the rain at the window—groan of joist and beam in the wind—could just as well have been a...

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THREESOME BY MICHAEL CROSSMAN

A pair of mallard ducks flew frantically above the red tiled roofs before banking sharply towards a large pond. They glided into the calm water agitating its smooth surface.  The male, with a distinct fluorescent green head and...

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HYDROTHERAPY GERALD KAMENS

HYDROTHERAPY GERALD KAMENS  “Is this the Sea of Tranquility?” he yelled back to me, guffawing; “Hey, Ronald, you know where the actual sea’s located?”  “Not a clue, Jake.” Jake was luxuriating in the large porcelain tub of warm...

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THE UNDERTAKER’S WIFE BY ROBIN DRAGOO

She had been an undertaker’s wife for seven years. The mornings, she lay with her life projecting onto the back of her eyelids, between sheets that etched her skin with grains of foreign dirt. She bore witness to his livelihood...

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OPPOSITE LIVES BY ABIGAIL LIND HENSON

Columbia, Maryland April 3rd, 2019 11:45 am Jack stood in line, anxiously waiting for his cheesy breadsticks with marinara sauce. It was Wednesday. Cheesy breadsticks were always on Wednesday’s menu. Others complained that the...

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THE LAST ONE BY NINGNING SUN

Tides are getting higher, much higher than before. Water is flowing into the wooden house built on the highest point on this island. He stands in front of the house, murmuring, “I guess it’s the last day.”   He isn’t sad; he is...

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HIS HEIR BY TOWNSEND WALKER

Our village escaped the war. We heard skirmishes nearby, at the edge of the woods. That was all.  After each engagement, tired soldiers wafted into the square like dried leaves piling up against the steps of the church. In the...

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