• Memoir,  Short Story

    All People Poop, Some People More Than Others by William Turbyfill

    Do I poop here in my home or do I wait until I get to the sandwich shop? Like all great adventures, this one started with a choice. After just moving to a new area I needed to find work. I filled out applications all over town and the one place that felt like taking our relationship to the next level was a sandwich shop a quarter mile from my home. They invited me in for an interview. It was a great job possibility considering the circumstances. Not too many hours a week, an easy walk from my home and free sandwiches. Up until this point in my job history…

  • Memoir,  Novel Excerpt,  Short Story

    Clogs and Gold Lame Tube Tops by Christina Wheeler

    Before I attended Catholic school I grew up with MTV. I headbanged and threw up the devil horns like a heathen child in my crib when Cum on Feel the Noize came on. I loved Ozzy. I couldn’t help it. My parents were barely twenty when they had me. My mother would wear tube tops with no bra, the cotton barely hiding the shape of her nipples. A sight I would grow to become uncomfortable with by the time I was ten. Her shiny blue eye shadow matched the glint of the metal of her power wheelchair and, if she was moving at her top speed of eight miles an…

  • Short Story

    Shooting Stars and Open Bars by Alexandria Duluoz

    There’s just one memory I keep going over in my head. It was early morning in California and I’d been up all night leaning on the windowsill, my mind was clouded with the haze of six hash brownies and a red stripe. I loved those one dollar and ninety-nine cent tall boy cans of red stripe. It had been six months of non-drinking so I was still decently drunk. It was also my sixth consecutive month of not having sex, at five a.m. I started to make heart shaped waffles. Supposing it was nervousness and bad habit forming but I had gotten little sleep and I continued to ponder ever…

  • Poetry

    A Town Called Home by Morf Morford

    There might be places I’d prefer to be anchored, But I find myself here, As if I had no other place to call home Among the many places I’ve seen. To continue reading A Town Called Home, click here.

  • Christmas

    Jackie Fender says Bah Humbug

    I’d like to make believe I’m roasting chestnuts by an open fire awaiting the time this evening I gather with my festive friends to sing carols around town to brighten holiday spirits but this is not the case. Instead I am dreading embarking on the final leg of my holiday journey which includes scooping up the last items on my little one’s wish lists surrounded by hordes of fellow procrastinators. And that is then followed by an all-nighter of caffeine and wrapping paper catastrophes. To continue reading Fender’s Bah Humbug, click here

  • Christmas,  Short Story

    Lights by Joshua Swainston

    “Lights.” My son raises his voice from the backseat every time we drive near a holiday decorated home. “Dad. Lights.” “Okay,” I exaggerate the response to make it seem as if I’m doing him a favor by turning the vehicle around. We are equally excited, him and I. His mother, my wife, is at home enjoying a much needed kid-free break from the holiday season. I find the next street to turn around. It is Christmas, and for a few weeks surrounding, a nighttime drive is dotted with nuggets of brightly lit beacons illuminating the otherwise unimpressive neighborhoods like the star of the east. To continue reading Lights by Joshua…

  • Christmas

    Merry Christmas from William Turbyfill

    Throughout history and across different cultures, nations and peoples, the bleak midwinter has been a time for celebrations. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christian, Jewish, Pagan or secular, the darkest and coldest parts of the year are full of food, drink and dance. December in particular is lousy with holidays where revelry is expected. At first glance this seems odd. Springtime is where the fun’s at. It’s warm, it’s bright; and plants, animals, and people are making baby plants, animals and people. True, springtime holds its share of celebrations but nothing compared what happens when the days get shorter and the nights grow longer; where people have little to do…