The Provincial

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…flinched as I heard a thud, followed by mad fluttering. I cautiously approached the kitchen window, and peered through the murkiness outdoors. A massive black bird lay on the ground, flapping his wings, but unable to right himself. The poor thing must have lost his bearings in this weather and flew into the the large picture window. His fluttering became erratic, then slowed, and finally stopped.

The weather outside was dank and the ground covered in thick fog; not a day to spend outdoors by any means. It was, however, perfect for an evening inside with a good book and…

By Tracey Koehler

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Time

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…remember lyin’ upon my momma’s bed lookin’ to the shards of sunlight slippin’ through the cracks of the wall’s boards; I came out upon that bed that was standin’ within a room that Momma called “the shed.” Well, she called it that because it stuck out from the side of the shack that we were livin’ within. Anyway, that shack stood upon the land of my daddy’s owner. Well, Momma saw him more as a boss than an owner, and I suppose that she had to see him that way because she hated him. Now, I say that because this…

By Christopher DelMonaco

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Pathologically Disconnected, or, Why I Write Novels

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…handed my college buddy a small magazine clipping with a photograph of some place with trees and water. I’d just had a very nice visit there, in fact. Then I ripped out the page I was looking at and cut the place out.
“What is it?”

I was excited to explain the birthday gift. “It’s a. . .it’s a ‘place-to-be’. You look at it and you can picture yourself in the picture, anywhere in the picture you want. . .Like I did. When I looked at it; it was a really cool picture that…

By Gabriella L Garlock

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The Path of the Fireflies

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…glimpse inside my soul reveals a new path, lined with fireflies to guide my way. The path is smooth and soft beneath my toes like fresh sand. I can feel it give way beneath my step as the flight of the fireflies outline each footstep in its soft glow. My mind is filled with childlike curiosity as I follow along, the sweet scent of blooming hyacinths riding the warm breeze beside me. I can hear the lulling sound of waves rolling to an undiscovered beach in the distance, and the far-off cry of a seagull…

By Tracey Koehler

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Something

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…swollen from stress, she stifles a smile strained and scared to share some semblance of self-satisfaction.

Starts and stops string a song of life standing as a solitary sign, annoyingly stoic and submissive. A vast sea of sound is situated with only strangers strapped in their own seat; saddled with their own stride.

Surrounded with sterling chauffeurs; suffocated in a facade of sugar and spice. A day dream of circumstance contrasts who you thought you should be; sunbathed in shiny bronze of slippery skin.

Something surreal sifted slowly into the psychosomatic reality of sweet truth. A shift of self-discovery and…

By Darren Thompson

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Out of the Box

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tip-toe, in the dark of the night, to the grave of all of my sorrows.

Falling to my knees upon the frozen ground, I sobbed in silence.

My body convulsed with need to shed itself of the misery and distress that my heart and mind had endured.

Stubborn to the end, I lay prone upon the grave, digging my fingers into the earth beneath me.

I clenched fistfuls of the rich dirt and held it to my chest, as if I could somehow become a part of it, absorb it into my flesh.

My soul ached with the weight of


By L.E.

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Alakazam

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…friends have nicknamed me Houdini.

I have the uncanny ability to make lovers disappear without a trace

With nothing but magic words and the ripping of a sheet.

They dematerialize into nothing but molecules and isotopes

And are swept up in the unforgiving wind produced when I utter the words:

“I can’t do this anymore.”


My magic is most proficient when my mind starts playing tricks on me.

It produces false pretenses, and speaks stories of treason,

Giving me the sign that the show is about to begin.

“Would anyone from the crowd like to…


By Vincent Midolo

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Yet I Try

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…wife croons softly, a song of light from our past

as I play make belief tea party with my daughters.

The elder one had to call me from my work desk twice

before I shut down my laptop. The little one laughs

that uninhibited laugh that us adults lost

a long time ago. The elder one looks

happy as she pours imaginary tea from her little

white pot into the miniature plastic cups, blue,

yellow and blue, that she has arranged in front

of the three players. A couple of minutes ago

I was recording them speak, sing and…

By Rajnish Mishra

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Would You Like to Place an Order Now?

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…sincerely hoped he was the last to arrive for the big occasion. He entered through the unguarded stadium door and quickly mixed into the bustling throng of people on the arena floor. He scanned the crowd and estimated it numbered close to a thousand or more. All wore shirts and hats for and against various peoples and parties. Literally everyone held signs and banners that screamed the name of their fearless leader, President Lügner (Lug) Widerlich.

Quint worked his way to a point near the front of the stage where a group of burly men stood to keep the exuberant…

By Alex Starke


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The Last Stockade

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…walls are stripped bare, the cubicles emptied. No more potted plants or flowers, pictures of loved ones, or construction paper devotionals from children. Sharon is mildly surprised that the lights are still on. She has holed up in the 4th floor accounting department waiting for the end.

The entire corporate structure of NCADS had been moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Iowa, for God’s sake. But Sharon isn’t going. She hasn’t eaten anything since they took out the vending machines, but the faucets in the bathrooms still work. She shakes her stainless steel water bottle as if it’s a tribal gourd…

By Matthew C. McLean

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