• Practice Makes Perfect? by Chelsea Vitone

    I peeked around the corner and saw him staring into the microwave, tapping his index finger on the counter as the seconds counted down. I heard that was bad for you, but with that pretty face, he should be fine with a few micro-radiated brain cells. I ran through my lines in my head, Hi I’m Sarah from advertising, I couldn’t help but notice you around the office. Chad, is it? I love your tie. I smoothed my skirt, ran my fingers through my hair and stepped into the break room. He looked up at the sound of my heels clacking against the tile and gave me a nod of…

  • Like Butterflies By Lorna McGinnis

    “I want to forget.” She looked upwards, into its eyes, trying to sound firm. “Don’t you all.” It raised an eyebrow. It was amazing how human it looked. If she didn’t know better she would have mistaken it for a woman. It wore a tailored suit and a string of pearls. Its hair was blond, going gray at in places, and done up into a neat bun. It was classy without being ostentatious. “Can you do that? Make me forget?” She smoothed a hand over her blouse and shifted back a little. “It depends.” It quirked its mouth into something that was almost a smile. Now that she considered, it…

  • Traffic Jam by Zachary Scott Hamilton

    I would call her Taylor, because black hairs draw toward the curve of her lips and edge into the miles between us – But instead I curtail a whimsy, freak out the neighbors by dressing my cat in an armor of arrows, go outside, into the suburbs, dressed in my fag dreams, and search for purple, learning the arithmetic of streets my art teachers taught me – and curving down the avenue of Toasters, big loaves of bread slide up from inside, all around us – Meeshka wants some of the toast and jumps up and down, clanging the arrows stop motion. Odd for a cat – “No Jumping!” Med.z…

  • Oh Holy Night or The True Story of Christmas Eve Dinner 2014 by J.R. Henry

    My grandmother’s house is quiet, spacious, and ostentatiously expensive. It’s dressed up like Hollywood money from the 1930’s, back before she married into wealth. White columns frame every floor length window, the light from beyond filtering through the slits in the heavy draped curtains. There’s a sleek grand piano in one corner of the room, a glass encased cabinet of silver odd and ends in the other. The plush white carpet is spotted with iridescent sequins of colored light bouncing off the tinkling chandeliers. Dean Martin pipes in softly from the house-wide speaker system. I’m in the sitting room, perched upon one of several silk upholstered chairs around the massive…

  • Pro By Jenni Prange Boran

    It was one of those monochromatic days. Gray upon gray. Wet. The kind of day that makes old wounds ache. The kind that calls for a thick hooded sweatshirt. Gloves. And maybe a ski mask. None of these items would be a particular cause for concern on a day like today. The first red flag upon his entering the convenience store would be that classic motion, the reach around his back to retrieve his 9mm. The cashiers all know that motion. It’s not even like they’re trained to know it. But they’ve all seen television. Still, despite what they show on television, very few cashiers have the wherewithal to reach…

  • Ashes to Ashes by Christian Carvajal

    She arrived when my office girl Margie was out to lunch, as if that narrows it down. I welcomed my latest possible client with an enthusiasm I usually reserve for good brandy. “Mr. Wainwright?” she asked, her voice perfect for radio. “I answer to that moniker. Dylan, too,” I said, smiling. I ushered her into the office and gave her the twice over. She had a figure like Beethoven in Braille, and a mug you could use to sell lipstick. Helen of Troy would’ve asked for her autograph. I should’ve known she was trouble before her rump left that valentine-shaped impression in my office chair. She wore black—-short black dress,…

  • Dressed To Kill by L. Lisa Lawrence

    She drew the riding crop slowly, teasingly down the center of his chest to his groin, which she playfully circled before bringing it down on his inner thigh hard enough to raise a welt. He felt a surge of arousal and anger. As he lay on the four poster bed, naked, in biting leather restraints he looked at his wife of 20 years with amusement. He hadn’t wanted to bother with her on this day, much preferring to spend it with his current mistress, a much younger and more sexually adventurous woman, but she had surprised him by delaying her trip a few hours so that they could spend part…

  • Run Away by Jack Cameron

    Mom, I’m sorry you have to find out like this. If I were half the man you thought I was, I’d be telling you my plan of how I’m going to make everything right again and pay back that bastard for what he did. But I’m not and I’m not. I hope when you get this that you’ll do the smart thing. Don’t try to find me. I’m not worth finding and will only bring you trouble. Kayla was always the good one. I’ve tried to trace back my actions and what happened to see if any of it could have been prevented. Was it the conversation after the funeral?…

  • The Lichen Story by Cameron Kobes

    I don’t get a name in this story. Hell, why would I? I’m not the one having the dream. The one having the dream, he has a name. I’m just a freak his subconscious cooked up. How do you like that? I don’t even get an identity, I’m just made of pieces his mind put together. You ask me, that’s not right. You ask me, I drew the short stick in a bad way. But who asks me? I’m not even a character. The dreamer’s the character. He probably thinks this whole thing is about him. He can think what he wants, I don’t care. It’s a desert, this place.…

  • Circle of Oaks By Ellen Miffitt

    It happened in the woods, far from the nearest dwelling. Removed from civilization proper, the forest primeval was deep, dark, silent. So remote, little human contact had been made with this section of forest. It stood untouched, sacred in stance. The eldest trees scratched the sky with tender twigs. The sunlight filtered through this ancient stand’s thick trunks and massive branches to the moss covered earth rich with centuries of leaf droppings. She sat still, frozen in place, except for her heaving chest as she struggled to catch her breath. A faint finger of light slide through the tangle of forest canopy brushing her ebony hair barely giving form to…