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Two Flash Fiction Pieces by Shareen K. Murayama
Where We Grew Up Where we grew up, our mother’s half moon eyes and laughter disappeared in the scissors of the mountains. We mapped her happiness to our father, but directions are just hand-me-downs of where someone’s already been. Where we grew up, they blanketed the lake with a golf course. Blue were our mother’s… Continue reading
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Artwork by Sean Bw Parker
Sean Bw Parker (MA) is a writer, artist and musician based in Worthing, West Sussex. He lived in Istanbul for ten years, has written or contributed to a number of books and albums, and given a TED talk. He was born in Exeter in 1975. Continue reading
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Inbox
by Niles Reddick Sartre believed hell was other people, and he may have been right, although he hallucinated crabs followed him around Paris. He didn’t have an Inbox. My Inbox is hell—all life’s annoyances dinging in on me daily even after they’ve been blocked, even after I’ve unsubscribed (though I’d never subscribed): the good neighbor… Continue reading
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Cold War Sonnet
by Charlie Brice In Cheyenne we never did those drillswhere we hid under our desks, paperatop our heads, to fend off the falloutthat would kill us. Frances E. Warren Air Force Base was two miles away.Cheyenne was ringed with ICBMs hiddenin prairie-silos. In Cheyenne, we practicedgetting home on time. If it took more than fifteen… Continue reading
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Two Poems by M F Drummy
Bindweed It seems almost laughable now but,in those early months of lawlessness,many still held out hope. The tanks had not yetrumbled across Main Street, the elders among uscautioning restraint with the arrestof the first judge. So,when the snow began to melt,spring giving way to summer onthe vast grasslands,little patcheshere and there of blue flaxand buttonsof… Continue reading
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Crash-Testimony
by Daniel Romo Pastor Ruben said anything mentioned at our church men’s group is confidential and I admitted to those at my table that I don’t really like people and prefer to be alone, but I view this revelation as more broken fourth wall than promise. We bond over breakfast and the books of Colossians… Continue reading
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Demolition or development
by D.S. Maolalai my lights are gone dark now.my days are less longas they bend into summer’sloose pantleg. this house points north,onto train tracks and across themto a disused and falling down fruit market,constantly on the verge of demolitionor development. I’ve been leavingthe lights off. daylight willget in some way. now flowers diein their pots.… Continue reading
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A Ripple of Stillness
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is a Jar, The Phoenix, and other… Continue reading
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Getting By
by Daniel Acosta All Texans and even Aggies know when someone says that they graduated from “The University” it means the University of Texas. After going two years at Texas Western College from 1963 to 1965 for my pre-pharmacy courses, I boarded an airplane for the first time in my life. I was so naïve… Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 