Author: Helen Weil
Helen is a Chicago native and grad student at the University of Minnesota. Her work has previously been published in The Tower Literary Magazine, BirdHouse Magazine, and Kalopsia Lit.
Atlas is the first of us to leave home.
That’s not quite right.
Mom was the first to go. She left on a red backboard and found a new home in the cemetery down the road. I wonder why she was in such a rush to go. I wonder if she knew something we didn’t. Maybe the soil is a softer place to rest than a bed with a husband in it.
Author:: Calla Smith
Calla Smith lives and writes in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She enjoys long walks, cooking, and keeping her eyes open for the bizarre in everyday life. She has published a collection of flash fiction “What Doesn’t Kill You”, and her work can also be found in several literary journals.
It was the farthest north they had ever been. Ellie had an aunt who lived in a large vacation home on the seaside somewhere where it was always warm, and they could escape the cold weather of the city that they had never left before, where the bare trees cracked under the wind and the glass of kitchen windows grew white with frost in the early mornings.
Ellie knew that Caroline needed to get away, the same way that Ellie always knew everything about her. It had been that way since Caroline had first tasted Ellie’s name on her tongue and felt the sharp edges getting stuck in her teeth all those years ago. Their friendship had long been merely a fact of life.
Author: Kim Hayes
Kim lives and works in Chicago, IL. She is married and owned by two cats.
I got up at the usual time, shortly before sunrise. The weather app on my phone said it was clear, and I looked out the living room window towards the beach. The lake was as still as glass. It was going to be a glorious sunrise. I grabbed my phone, cigarettes, a beach towel, slid my feet into my flip-flops, and headed out.
Author: Mariam Bukia
Active and open to challenges because she thinks the world is a playground of unlimited possibilities, she works as a general manager, project manager, PR manager, young teacher, head of personnel department, book club leader, and speaker, in educational organizations. She writes poems, stories, sketches, because in this way she feeds the garden of her thoughts and ideas with sunlight.
The shadows of the city shimmer like her sickly pale face. The night flickers like clichés and old, unchanging words emerging from lips deprived of mental depths, like words uttered out of place and like every unspoken word.
A. R. Tivadar is a hobby writer from Romania and a graduate of the University of Oradea. She has been published in underscore_magazine, the Aurum Journal, Motus Audax Press, Firework Stories, miniMAG, The Expressionist, Pink Heart Mag, Cathartic Lit Magazine, Academy of the Heart and Mind & Alien Buddha Press.
Mirela looked out the window and saw him. There was a man standing in the field outside her new home, tall and unmoving. The overgrown wheat reached his waist. He stood with his back towards the window, so all she could see was the back of his head and his big, puffy shirt.
“Mom!” She called out.
Author: Azhaar Khair
Azhaar Khair is a writer from Indonesia. She writes in English and Indonesian. Her Instagram is @azhaarakhair.
For the past few days, I cried over nightmares I couldn’t remember. Today was the same. I woke up with tears trickling down; my heart palpitating heavily and my breathing short. None of the dreams I could retrieve, but the devastation remained.
Attempting to sleep again was futile. It was already eight in the morning. I planned to visit my son-in-law today; I couldn’t be late given his circumstances. I wiped my tears, took a shower, got dressed, and exited the bedroom.
Author: Maya Cheav
Maya Cheav is a pile of stardust trying to be a person. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Across the Margin, ALOCASIA, Stone of Madness, and Scapegoat Review. She published her debut poetry chapbook, Lykaia, with Bottlecap Press in early 2023.
“I cheated on my wife.”
The silence that followed was thick and buttery, like a dense fog seeping through the patterned grate that stood between them, oozing through the cracks in the stained wood of the confession box.
The quiet was broken by a sob stifled in his sleeve, Hartford’s voice cracking like bones under deadweight. He made a half-baked attempt to regain his composure, clearing the cobwebs from his throat, though a spider remained, its feet itching back and forth at his tongue.
Author: Dennis Vannatta
Dennis Vannatta is a Pushcart and Porter Prize winner, with essays and stories published in many magazines and anthologies, including River Styx, Chariton Review, Boulevard, and Antioch Review. His sixth collection of stories, The Only World You Get¸ was published by Et Alia Press.
I come up out of the meadow and angle across Main Street toward “the homestead,” larger in reality than I would have thought it. In “reality”? Another dream, of course. Ah, this exhausting night of dreams in which I set myself the task of being a better man than I ever was, a generous man, bringing solace and comfort to the despairing—shouldn’t it have begun here? She was the first, I think, of whom it occurred to me to play delightfully with the notion: if only I could see her, if only I could tell her . . . little Emily.
A lovely May day, 1886, birds flitting here and there across the blue sky, the stench of . . .
Author: Arlene Placer
Arlene began writing in 2017 at the age of 77. Mainly fanfiction (Sherlock) and then delved into short stories. She belongs to two Zoom writing groups and one poetry group.
It couldn't be! It just can't! No! After all this time, it's here and --- but wait!
Where did the time go?
Why didn't the clock stop?
Maybe the sun or moon should have known and ---.
But no one cared.
Author: Jenny Morelli
Jenny Morelli is a high school English teacher from New Jersey, where she lives with her husband and cat. She’s inspired by everything she sees and loves the spin the most mundane things into fantastical tales. She is a prolific reader and writer who writes in many genres including poems, memoirs, short stories, and novels, but poetry has always been her first passion. Poetry, and her students.
I fly into nothing, steered only by wind. Clouds veil my descent.