Every great story starts with the word it and mine will be no exception.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …
It was a dark and stormy night …
My story will be one of truth, and of pain, and with every ounce of emotion poured on to the pages I will punctuate my words and I will begin my syntax with it. My readers will question my validity and I will answer by showing them it.
“It does not lie,” I will say. “It is the truth.”
Continue reading ““Allure” by Deanna Harris”
Covered in dust was a picture of my wife and I sitting on top of the fireplace. It was when we got our first car and home together. It was this green and black used 1956 Gran-Torino with gold rims and the house was this two-story home with black barred windows, but was painted this oddly bright yellow that mirrored the late happiness of my life. That house was beyond ugly to me, and with going on 5 years of being together, that picture embodied my wife’s smile glistened happiness and my smile beamed proudness and positive hopes for the journey to come. That image captured the innocence that we once had as husband and wife.
Continue reading ““The Rituals of the Black Widow” by Keturah Moore”
When we were growing up, we dug and filled a pond in the woods behind our house, and in the summertime, after lunch on those hot, sticky Southern days, we would pull on our bathing suits and run barefooted through clumps of poison ivy and moss and ferns and touch-me-nots until we threw ourselves off the dry bank into the brown water of the pond Continue reading ““Far Away Summer” by Zoe Howard”
The forest looked deep and charming as Oliver made his way toward a young girl on the path ahead of him. He watched her from a distance as she climbed over a fallen log. It had just begun to rain when he started following her home and neither of them had a coat or umbrella. Oliver could feel a huge storm coming. There was no way she was going to make it home before it hit. As lightning struck just a couple miles ahead of them, she stumbled back and fell in surprise. As quietly as he could manage, Oliver approached her and spoke in a calming voice. Continue reading ““Whimsy Girl” by Celina Ortiz”
If you were to ask me what my most used word was, I would probably say fuck. There is some scientific fact that my sister once blabbered on to me about saying that if you say a four letter word it helps relieve stress. However, the words fork or fold or felt don’t quite help get the edge off like the word fuck.You see I don’t dabble in dope or partake in PCP, I’ve never wielded weed, or lapped up liquor. Words are my drugs. When my breath begins to quicken and my heart starts to pound, I can say words out loud or write them down and, my heart beat gets softer and my breaths become deeper. Continue reading ““Fuck” by Taylor Lee”
The first time he kissed me was on a Saturday. He convinced me that sitting in a car outside a noisy bowling alley, listening to Jeff Buckley, and eating durian fruit would be a great first date.
Continue reading ““The Growing Oak Tree” by Lydia Mathis”
The sun glares down in a peaceful smile again today. No puffy white cotton balls to obscure its watchful eye. Tearing away from the bright spy in the sky I instead move to the neatly lain sidewalk with accurately placed faux concrete stones.
Continue reading ““Halcyon” by Kortney Kochert”
The DJ hasn’t played a single song you know or would dance to anyway. The food looks amazing but tastes disappointing. Everyone is dressed their best, but there is no one here that you want to see that badly. You didn’t even really look at yourself or your “dates” when you left. The decorations—the meager few that are scattered around the gym—look cheap and don’t reflect the theme at all. A Night in Paris. You don’t think that consists of mini-Eiffel Towers hanging from a ceiling, of glitter thrown on the floor, or of berets decorating the tables. Continue reading ““A Night in Paris” by Jasmyn Stamper”
On Saturday morning, Kate texts me telling me to come to her house at noon. i want to have this small amount of control before i lose even that, she says in the messages. that’s all i want.
can you bring your camera? Continue reading ““Kate” by Alex Brown”