Roger was a very ordinary man. He was the kind of man who came home to his one bedroom apartment every night except for Friday and ate a Hungry Man TV dinner on a TV tray in front of the TV, just like you remember the commercials always suggesting. Read more...
Her son on the playroom carpet cooing, “Baby, baby, baby, oh.” He sat cross-legged, his back to her, his thick, black hair reflecting the glancing swoop of the window fan as it spliced the late afternoon light. He hummed at the thing clutched in his hands, the squawking, chirping, crying, Read more...
The best photo I have of Mae Boswell is 60 years old but I would gladly trade it and all my photos of her for a chance to hear a recording of her speaking. Even just one solitary sentence, because though I remember well what she looked like, I don’t remember the sound of her voice. Read more ...
Nora sighed then took a sip of her Cosmopolitan. Over the top of her glass, she eyed the men sitting and standing around the bar. All the usual fare, until her gaze stopped at the man directly across from her. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Check. Check. Check... Read More
That was the summer she held onto her youth, spending most nights entertaining innocent experiences like getting donuts at midnight, dancing in glass elevators to the 14th floor, or going out to play at the park before dawn if only because she had stayed up so late... Read More
None of us were sure if it was because it was an unusually wet winter that year followed by a string of extreme warm spring days, or if it was just something that happened every couple of years like clockwork... Read more...
Dear Dead Woman,
You were nowhere last night. After I finished with the boy from the gas station and kicked him to the curb I took two Ambiens and a shot of good Kentucky bourbon and waited for you in the bathtub until the world was split in two...
New Fiction by Theresa Rose
It was during a Rodeo in Torrington that I learned something I’m pretty
sure nobody will believe. It’s a little known fact that there are places
in Wyoming where you can get a bad steak.
Now don’t everybody fall over backwards but it actually did happen to me. Read More...
New Fiction by Becky Cirkovic
“Shit…oh shit.” Julie thought to herself as she heard the sweet cheery voice she had prayed she would never hear again.
“Honey we have a problem,” Julie called out to her husband.
“What is it?” He replied.
“My cousin, Debra is in town,” Julie said.
New fiction by Becky Cirkovic
Even before getting out of bed Sandra rang up her friend, Donna. When Donna answered, Sandra blurted out. “Are night sweats forever?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You know what else children don’t know?”
“What, that you can have pimples into your fifties?” replied Sandra.
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