Category: Prose
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Dumped
by Mark Brazaitis The first time one of Adrienne’s boyfriends ended the night in a dumpster was an accident. His name was Rupert, and besides his talent for riding a unicycle while wearing a Cat-in-the-Hat hat and his ability to speak spontaneously in rhyme, a quality Adrienne at first found charming, he wasn’t good…
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To Beauty From Beast
by Alaina Hammond I was in you from the very beginning, though it took me years to fully emerge. I let you have your childhood in relative health. I even let you have your daughter, sparing her in every sense. You staved me off as best you could, to starve me even as I starved…
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Lightning Bugs in January
by Derek Updegraff She imagined Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the gang squealing as the flames colored the gray sky. Her mom had said, “Toss them in. Go on, Becca. Toss them in.” So she tossed them in seconds ago, not hesitating because she knew better than to defy her mom. Her hands stung…
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Bitter to Ripe
By DM Anderson I was twelve years old the first time I uttered the words son of a bitch. Naturally, I had no idea what those words meant. I was merely a child. I only knew the expression came with a sinister adult-sized connotation. That same year was also when I decided to move my…
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Nora’s Christmas
By Lina Marino Nora can’t escape the holiday: Christmas-themed sitcoms on TV, festive music in the stores, some idiots even decorate their cars with felt antlers, bells jangling on bumpers, the drivers themselves festooned in fuzzy red hats and ridiculous reindeer noses. Her short ride to the mailbox torments her, every house on the cul-de-sac…
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Toot Sweet
By Daniel Webre From the get-go, Jacques seemed an unlikely suitor. I’m sure whoever arranged these trysts was well-versed in reading pedigree papers and such. Surely, they wouldn’t have sent an over-the-hill poodle to do this stud-work. But Jacques looked old. His white fur had started to yellow, though everyone insisted he was peach. I…
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Rendezvous at Three
By D.B. Gardner The Spouse Trevor wants to stay at the hotel and brood over his wounded stock portfolio, so I decide to stroll the wine-colored cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, thankful I’m not wearing the spiked heels from my bachelorette party. Memories of Montreal seep in from five-plus years ago, the entourage of drunken…
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The Fourth Dimension
By Amy Scheiner It happened like this. I was sitting in my kitchen stirring grainy almond milk into my coffee one early morning, when I had the strongest memory I ever had in my life. I’m not even sure the word memory properly encapsulates what happened. The morning birds hummed outside. Even though we’d recently…