Still in Your Fingertip – by ROB PARRISH

Still in Your Fingertip We are in bed and you start a message on my back. You move your right index finger at a controlled pace. First a T, then H. Next an I. A slow-curling S follows. Your finger drags off my back. I say the word into the bedding. You tap my back…

I Want a Wife – by CONNIE BEDGOOD

I Want A Wife By Connie Bedgood   Men want wives. As I mow my back yard, I, too, would like to have a wife.  Why do I want a wife?  She can help do the yard work.  In fact, while I go to the gym, she can put out the trash a couple of…

Shadow Play – by DAVID COOK

Shadow play By David Cook   Keith, get up. ‘Eh? Wha… what time is it?’ Get up, Keith. ‘Who said that?’ I did, Keith. Me, your shadow. To answer your question, it’s about six in the evening. You fell asleep, even with the light switched on. You were probably full after your tea. A nap…

Wild Dreams – by DON TASSONE

Wild Dreams   His alarm went off precisely at six.  So did his coffee maker and TV. CNN was playing on the flatscreen in his kitchen.  He scanned email and FaceBook as he sipped his coffee and chewed on a breakfast bar.  He had two more friend requests overnight.  He accepted them both. He grabbed…

Through the Veil – by THOMAS ELSON

Through the Veil by Thomas Elson         Katherine was born in an isolated section of an isolated state where creeks were called rivers and foothills called mountains, where the letter “r” held its rightful position in the word Washington, and the final syllables of the word Arkansas were pronounced exactly the same as the state…

A Good Year – by RAY BUSLER

  A Good Year   The coffee burned my mouth as I sat down, out of Emma’s way, at the table. She fussed around the kitchen getting breakfast ready, hanging coats on pegs by the back door, and setting a bottle to warm in a pan of water on the stove. Claire sleeps through the night…

The Reflection in the Mirror – by SEBNEM SANDERS

The Reflection In The Mirror   It didn’t begin in the elevator, but it started with the photograph taken in the elevator. My niece, Lara, sent me the picture from Berlin. The black and white shot could have been from a classy fashion magazine. A trendy couple, both wearing hats and dark sunglasses, and confidence…

One Floor Up – by DON TASSONE

ONE FLOOR UP by Don Tassone It began in an elevator. It was just after noon on a Wednesday. I was on my way to the cafeteria. It was only three floors up. Normally, I would’ve taken the stairs. But I was in a hurry, just grabbing a sandwich to eat at my desk. The…

Moving on – Kelly Fitzharris, Editor-in-Chief

Sometimes we start out the New Year hungover, covered in glitter, in our own beds (somehow) having fallen asleep in party clothing.   Others, we abstain from that lifestyle altogether and don’t drink; so waking up on January the 1st  is like any other day for us, except for possible unspoken or unaddressed marital discontent….

Amelia Flew Home – by STEVE CARR

AMELIA FLEW HOME by Steve Carr Her feet; those elephantine, calloused, dry, mop-water-dirtied appendages, lifted from the ground, raising that bloated, overworked, undersexed, unappreciated body into the air where she momentarily hovered like a bewildered wounded butterfly unable to flutter its wings. Pushed by a foul smelling breeze that came in through the open kitchen…

Other People – by ANTHONY BLOOR

Other People One person’s meadow is another person’s building site. I look at nature; he looks at property values. He sees a hole in the guttering; I see a sparrow’s nest. There came a day when my neighbour popped by to bring me bad news. The local authority wanted to demolish my home and relocate…