by Grant Faulkner | Apr 24, 2014
Flattened by a car, its arms spread out, a little like Jesus. The sun had baked it as crisp as a potato chip. “Poor toad,” Maria said. “Didn’t know how to cross the road.” “Maybe he thought the car was a new friend,” I said. “Rushing to greet him.” “Or he was puzzling...
by Kyle Mellen | Apr 16, 2014
In the evening I sit out on the back porch watching the lit up flight pattern of the planes coming in for landing. They come right at me like a surging highway. I wear my binoculars. Sometimes I even make signs. WELCOME TO EARTH, said one of these signs. I mowed it...
by Mark Halliday | Apr 7, 2014
(A rainy evening in a poor sector of London in 1890. Crossing a street, Sidney sees Jane and goes to greet her.) Sidney: Jane! Jane: Sidney? Good evening. Sidney: Rather a harsh evening, in fact. Jane: Yes, the rain is so chilly. I keep...
by Grant Faulkner | Mar 19, 2014
As he undid his belt, his erection snuck over the top of his white underwear. Zabeth saw his khaki-colored life fade away, the man of rules breaking the rules. A shopping mall bathroom. She looked at his gold wedding ring, wondering if he was there with his family, a...
by Nancy Ludmerer | Mar 11, 2014
We’re 55 and just married, and I for one get embarrassed when people congratulate us too heartily, as if they see and smell our bodies, not taut but glistening with afterglow, pungent with vanilla-scented lubricant. “Do not deny me” Tony murmured that first time, his...
by Meg Pokrass | Mar 3, 2014
My dumb friend touched my right nipple last night. We were in our bunk beds and he slid down and under my cover and stuck his right index finger on it. I thought an alarm would go off, but it didn’t. My friend said, “home.” I felt myself feeling friendly and a bit...
