I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. The nursing home had brick walls on the inside. Big glass doors. But my grandmother’s room was white, unadorned, hospital-like. Her slurred speech echoed off the empty walls. At seven, I saw my mother emerge from the room, crying. I shouldn’t go in, […]
Featured Fiction
white walls
Twenty-three Crates from China
by Prudence Hemming
FOREWARD I was asked to report on the aftermath of the deceased’s life from observations made at the final viewing. The sections below list observations of the physical remains and excerpts from documents recorded at different times in her last days. The final section is based on actual events written in accordance with her wishes. […]
Resonance
by Alison Sanders
The plastic bed is cold against Tamiko’s calves, her butt, her shoulder blades. The monstrous contraption hums, as if hungry for her. She’s heard stories of people who freak out in these things; she holds in her hand, in fact, a panic button. The earnest young technician who handed it to her wears scrubs and […]
Elephant
by Chris Naff
Warning: This short story contains sensitive content related to gun violence that may be triggering for some readers. “Is it real?” When the alarm goes off one of the third graders in the back asks Mr. Davis the question Ellison is afraid to ask. “It’s real,” Mr. Davis says. “Remember, we treat it real […]
Papa’s Red Money Box
by Rashmi Agrawal
Our eyes would be fixed on the box, hoping to get a fleeting peek inside. Would its touch be steely? Or had smooth feel of those notes? We couldn’t imagine if it were heavy like Maa’s salt container or feathery like ghee’s.
Turn Around
by Ariel Kay
Queen Maud Gulf, Nunavut, Canada April 28th, 38°F, wind: 15 m.p.h. “You’re the expert, Lydia,” Scott says as they stare out at the expanse of Arctic sea. Where there were supposed to be sleek sheets of ice, there’s now mostly slush. “What now?” Scott’s nose and cheeks are red, a bad mix of cold and […]
When the Bough Breaks
by Lesley Bannatyne
I am watching my daughter nursing the baby. She is incandescent, my daughter, like a Renaissance Madonna. Her skin is alabaster and her hair haloes in the sunlight that slips through the kitchen window and slides off the bones of her face. It’s the gorgeous hair some women get while pregnant—mine grew six inches during […]
Gin
by Kate Faigen
Mom and Dad are in the basement playing gin. “Your deal,” Dad says. Mom pours Tanqueray into one of the milk cups we used as children. “GIN,” she shouts, slamming it down.
Mind’s Eye
by Michael Pearce
“A simple description, Lewis, that’s all I’m asking.” He bangs that ridiculous cane on the floor, thunk thunk. Vertical strokes meant as punctuation, little jabs to splash some color on his words. Only sometimes the jabs get loud, angry. “Is that too much for you?” He says it with a giggly quaver to let me […]
Transcriptions
by Kathleen Jones
Mary isn’t a great internet name. When she introduces herself to someone new, she always assumes they’re picturing the lady who birthed the baby Jesus or a different Mary washing Jesus’ feet or a pious and forgettable woman circa 1610 or 1743 or 1872. She wears muslin skirts and a mop cap and goes about […]
