Without a Paddle

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…was a lovely panorama, Dolores thought, her mind turning as peacefully as did her kayak. Here she saw the nearby woods, its autumnal scarlets and ochres mirrored in the millpond, the white birch trunks making wiggly stripes in the dark water. In a moment, a current or breeze caught the bow, pivoting her view to the far meadow and hillside of golden grasses, then the dam. Below, the stream…

By Don Noel

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The Runner

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Every person has that one thing they love to do. For Oliver that is running. He would run everywhere and then one day he ceased to run at all. Maybe the artist will know why.

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…euphoric happiness of freedom he felt whilst running. He’d run the four miles to work his shift as a bartender and run home too. On his day off, he’d jog to the beach and dash through the breaking waves, a blissful smile on his face. Oliver never trained to be a sprinter; it was the distance he…

By Mason Bushell

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Stains

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…look at that picture – I can still smell the starch. That uniform was so stiff, if I turned this way or that, I would go this way and it would go that. Lord, Jesus. Hmm. My sister Ardella took it. My first day on the floor at People's General. She said, “Corrine, you look like an angel sent to save the world.” I believe I believed her too. Look at me. So proud. So…

By Shawn Cassidy

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