Ficton
-
The Lost Boys
by Kelly Murashige I find out a boy’s gone missing from a flyer on a corkboard. Had he disappeared a year or two ago, I would have found out from the news. For a while, I immersed myself in the goings-on of the world, afraid if I let a war, a bill, a cultural event… Continue reading
-
Origin
by Phyllis Carol Agins She is on the way to the Sahara. Of ancient rivers and expanding dunes. Of oasis and caravans and myth. In the early mountains she witnesses a water source. Small bubbles force liquid from below the surface to push slowly toward the sheep that need water, the laundry that should be… Continue reading
-
Afterimage
by Reece Jordan And so it repeats itself to him. Early summer: the beginning of July. They are at Julia’s place, sitting on a crescent of stone in the garden. The sun is out and the sky is that blend of blues, both soft and intense. Next to Ezra is a steaming mug of coffee… Continue reading
-
Spaghetti Face
by KC Courtland That year, I drove a ‘96 Chevy Venture, a beat-up old minivan, and hauled bodies. It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounded, except it was. I had three babies and one on the way. Even with the van shouldering part of the load, I was weighed down. I’d buckle one kid then… Continue reading
-
The Bear Outside the Window
by Terry Tierney My wife points toward the window, her hand trembling. “There’s a bear outside.” She lies propped up on a mechanical bed in the Intensive Care Unit with tubes piercing her arms and thighs connected to monitors flashing green lines and digits. Her eyes and raspy voice convince me this is no cuddly… Continue reading
-
Be Happy
by Duke Stewart Harriet Bass arrives late for the afternoon matinee. The other patrons in the ticket line stare at her, commiserating on her recent divorce. She would love to scratch those bleeding eyes out. She enters the bathroom which has a vanity mirror encircled by translucent bulbs. She never looks in the mirror. Much… Continue reading
-
Ants
by James Sears My brother Tom hunted the woods behind our house, moving through all the sharp plants North Florida offered, saw palmetto and yellow pines who leaned like sick old men. Nothing could live well here. Not trees. Not boys. Everything was vile and hard, or else it withered away. The midday sun blazed.… Continue reading
-
My Life as a Chaise Lounge
by Beth Sherman Lately, Eric and Katie have been fighting. Eric wants to sell me on Facebook Marketplace. Katie says, no way. I’ve been in her family for like, almost a century. You can’t put a price on comfortability. Actually, Eric claims you can. They’d get $4,300. He’s checked the comps. He took pictures of… Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 