One More Story by Don Tassone

ONE MORE STORY You head up to British Columbia with 12 other guys for a week of roughing it in Yoho National Park. You’re staying in a hut near Lake Louise. You hike and fish by day and drink and tell tall tales around a wood stove by night. You hear there are grizzlies and…

Parts per Trillion/Missed a Spot by Claudine Nash

  Parts per Trillion   After passing another morning with you in mind, it strikes me how I may only be one whisker away from the Daschund who detects illness brewing beneath his handler’s skin, from the Lab who smells time through the decline of her human’s odors across the course of the morning hours….

Hope is Dope by Sean Daly

Hope is Dope     The doctor spoke gobbledygook about the name of the cancer so I wrote it down so I could study all about it. And the word was a long serious word as was the situation it was adenocarcinoma how do they come up with these names? He told me about it…

Last Night I Was Visited by a Ghost by Melissa Libbey

Last Night I Was Visited by a Ghost   I woke up in the early hours of the morning. At a time where the sky starts to take on a lighter navy color with hints of gray. You can’t quite see the golden rays of the sunrise out your window just yet. But the moon…

Abandon With Intent by Crystal Snoddon

Abandon With Intent   She tromps haphazardly, her feet slipping along the shoulder of the highway. Shoulders hunched, cheeks flushed, lips cracked her mind, burnished by the rub of ambiguity now shines clearly, determined fists pump in rhythm with her feet. Tense. Staccato. Sun glints, a steely ray bounces from her sunglasses strobe lights dance…

The Shortcut by Patsy Parsons Smith

The Shortcut “I told mama I wouldn’t cut through this alley no more and here I am doin’ it again.” Lamont muttered to himself. “It’ll be alright just one more time though. Sure, why I’m nearly home now.”   The noise and the light struck Lamont like a gang banger with a riot gun–it was…

How to Date a Surfer by Lori Brody

How to Date a Surfer When you move to L.A. so your dad can turn his book into a movie, you swear no more Manhattan black and wire-rimmed glasses, no more Catholic girls’ school and boys at dances looking through you. The new you: contact lens, Sun In and lemon juice, Coppertone Oil, hair feathered…

He Buys Me Flowers by Kate Jones

He Buys Me Flowers   He buys me flowers.   Once, when we first met, I told him I liked being bought flowers. I liked the huge white daisies, I said. The ones with the round orange eyes, like bright egg yolks. I liked their simplicity, their nakedness.   He buys me bright orange dahlias,…