Category: Short Story
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Connecting by Bill Vernon
I was ill and trapped on a fast train, the TGV, racing from the Charles de Gaulle Airport to Angers (pronounced Onjay). Nasal congestion, wheeze, and runny eyes were bothering me so much, the French countryside and the villages whizzing past were tiresome, not exotic. Why did I go abroad…
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Fixing the Pew by Elyse Hsiao
The church was of a particular luminescence that day. A cozy, incandescent light streamed in from the stained glass windows, creating a luminous pattern on the red carpet. The dusted air floated lazily and smelled of wood polish and familiar warmth. For Sister Margaret, these were the days of deep…
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High Dive by Jim Bates
It was a three-meter board. Nearly ten feet off the water. To the boy it seemed like a mile. “Dare you!” His friends would challenge him. “You chicken?” Others would taunt. It was a public pool packed with kids all summer long. It was a great place and…
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Running is Healing by Huina Zheng
Lan wouldn’t have tried on those jeans if she hadn’t stumbled upon her former favorite pair while rummaging for activewear in the closet. She was fully aware that she had gained at least 20 kilograms since giving birth. Nevertheless, on a whim, she decided to give them a shot. With…
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Bricolage by Kirsten Dyck
On the third Saturday of August, 1969, half a million people worshipped bliss and marijuana on a farm near Woodstock, New York, while Los Angeles police arrested the Manson family on the other side of the country. The British Army descended on Northern Ireland to quash the Bogside Riots. Sons…
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Lloyd’s Worlds by Colby Galliher
Lloyd’s legs dangled from his wooden stool when we played live. As his cheeks billowed and the saxophone wailed those stout appendages of his, never quite reaching the floor, popped and jolted with a terrific elasticity, striking the air like snakes. The music’s intoxication would wheel up from his lower…
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Slingshot by George Thomas
On the drive in from Cheney, he tuned to classical music. Brahms, the readout informed him. Something new for him; he didn’t know why. Maybe that he read classical music was soothing. The engine noise seemed to have fixed itself, or, maybe, the tick-ticking had been his imagination. This was…
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Persephone’s Garden by Isabel Ballan
1 Eurydice On my first evening in the land of the Dead I was sent, lamed and limping, to visit Persephone in her boudoir. I sat by her elbow on a silk cushion. She wore green and silver veils, translucent, fraying at the edges. Her shadowed face was…
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The Bell and Basket by Jonathan B. Ferrini
A young lady on a bicycle with a basket filled with flowers announces her arrival by ringing the bell attached to the handlebars. She gently taps on my window to say “hello.” Her smile is wide, happy, and reminds me of the day I saw my wife cradling our…