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    A Boy and His God by Christian Carvajal

    My dad’s so twentieth century. F’real, though, he tries to be cool, but everything he does makes him stick out like a total noob. “Jake,” he says, patting my shoulder in what he hopes is a fatherly way, “the world hasn’t changed. People have all the same hopes and fears they ever had, no matter what the calendar says.” This from the guy who still pines for his old computer keyboard. Mom threw that out years ago, back when pretty much all of Western civilization went forty-gig universal WiFi. Poor old Pops still hasn’t figured out how to talk to the web through his implants. “Dad,” I remind him, “we…

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    On Senses: A Nature Essay by Janie Elizabeth Miller

    Since this is a nature essay, I should explain that while my body is located in an experimental forest, it is so far from its senses that all I smell is the sour pungency of a warm beer and the pitiful pool of wax at the bottom of a controlled flame near the air vent of my computer. Since I am here, and outside is there, I strain my ears to hear early dusk sweeping the landscape of its dust, settling early layers of dew on each sword of the sword fern which will sink imperceptibly lower to the ground as it gathers the burden of night, or the yellow…

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    The Road to Winlock by Leah Mueller

    Pacific Northwest rain has a spiteful, insidious quality, as if it was deeply committed to causing despair for anyone who is unfortunate enough to be caught in it. I was weary from battling a torrential downpour while driving along Interstate Five in my Toyota minivan. It was an ungainly, wedge-shaped vehicle, and it already had more than 200,000 miles on the odometer. Doug and I had left Eugene around five o’clock, after our intentions for a romantic getaway had refused to pan out. We’d spent the weekend arguing and threatening to split up as soon as we reached home. Neither of us had uttered a word to each other for…

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    Football by Alec Clayton

    My greatest ambition was to be a football hero. Evan’s too. Evan’s my twin brother. We look so much alike that even our parents couldn’t tell us apart. In high school we were the smallest kids in the whole school. Smaller than lot of the girls. But that didn’t hamper our football aspirations. I wanted to see my picture on the cover of a game program and on the first page of the sports section in the Journal. We’d seen movies about Knute Rockne and Crazylegs Hirsh and the greatest of all, Jim Thorpe, and we wanted to be them. Over six seasons, first in junior high and then in…

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    The Cannibals of Kitsap by Jonny Eberle

    I stopped eating on the first day of fourth grade. I opened my lunchbox and nearly puked at the sight of the food. My PB&J looked soggy and gelatinous, like the corpse of a beached whale about to explode. I imagined the interior of my apple crawling with fat worms. So, I ran to the nearest garbage can to dump it all out. That night at the dinner table, I swore I caught a whiff of gasoline in my meatloaf; imagined there was glue mixed into the mashed potatoes and tar in the gravy. I pushed my plate away and went to my room. My parents were too deep in…

  • Short Story

    Calculated by Nicholas Stillman

    The barrel of a Colt .45 tastes like a handful of nickels. As a kid, I would shove change in my mouth and suck on it like caramels. I loved the taste of money. Today, I woke in my hotel room to the barrel of a Colt .45 checking my tonsils. I dreamed I was choking on my mom’s change again. I opened my eyes. On the other end of my steel lollipop was the blank stare of Dominique. I hadn’t seen her since the casino job, and the two days hadn’t treated her well. Her cheeks were hollowed out, her body shaking like a small dog left in the…

  • Short Story

    The Legend of the Shadow People by Lawander Thompson

    The legend of shadow people goes way back from the passing down of a story which is steeped with tradition from the descendants of the Seminole Indian from one generation to the next.  You can say this is partly true for those people who believed and say they witnessed the shadow people figures, for others, perhaps it is just myth. They were often called upon in desperate times as the protectors and guarded over you, and those highly evolved were endowed with their spirits to be powerful warriors against evil doers, as the legend goes. No one really knows the exact origins, or era or period of time, it just…

  • Fiction,  Short Story

    The Accidental Labyrinth by L. Lisa Lawrence

    (Part I) She stood in the shadows. There was a perfectly safe, well-lit space to wait in the Peace Garden. Only a moment ago, she stood for a brief moment in time, gazing at the pillar with the word “Peace” illustrated in several languages contemplating what the world could be if people embraced this concept. That was the place that safety experts would say an unaccompanied woman “should” stand at night. It was the center of the garden, exposed to the city streets, well illuminated; a place where no potential attacker could approach without being seen and any call for help would be noticed an answered. But it also exposed…