Uncategorized

Neon & Smoke: My husband’s been preparing dinner for his girlfriend all afternoon. From the garden, I admire Julian through the kitchen window—pearl onions, bay leaves, and a bottle of red. My mom believes everyone needs a signature scent, and… Continue reading

Micromance Magazine: Crouching in the hedge was torture on Agnes’ 82-year-old knees. She trained the garden hose on the gate near the cherry tree. The massive trunk was on Frank’s side of the fence, but all the glorious fruit hung… Continue reading

Dark Winter Lit: I was equally relieved and annoyed that my father wasn’t home when we arrived. His cabin clung to a remote Vancouver Island riverbank like a weed. I don’t know why he bothered locking the door.  Continue reading

Bethlehem Writer’s Roundtable: Running into my younger self in the omelet line at the Ocean Dreamer buffet is a shocking way to begin this cruise. Continue reading

Flash Flood: If I don’t open my eyes, she’s not dead. Her potato-shaped body pressed against my thigh is always this still. If I don’t listen, she’s not dead. The whistle of air through her scrunched-up nose has been my… Continue reading

January House: Ruthie flies over the rocky beach. Yawning, I follow, careful not to roll an ankle. Dad’s ghost is everywhere on this beach. His laughter bubbles up from the cresting waves, he sings Merle Haggard ballads on the sea-salt… Continue reading

Trashlight Press: Marjorie Marchand believed in order above all. Not everyone appreciated this trait—but it made her a perfect HOA president. Usually, walking past the rows of cream and beige vinyl-sided houses with their perfectly manicured chartreuse lawns filled Marjorie… Continue reading

The Good Life Review: Girls like me cling to youth. Our hands claw at hyaluronic acid life preservers, as our sea-glass husbands tumble gently into middle-age.  Continue reading

JAKE: A rusted fifteen-foot brontosaurus—the closest thing I’ve had to a father—looms in the front yard. Mom had completed the sculpture when I was eight, after months of us scouring ditches like abandoned kittens, for hubcaps, broken bikes, and other… Continue reading

Quotidian Bagatelle “Hey Suck-O-Matic 3000! Finished cleaning Home Depot’s bathrooms?” his twin, Ash, taunted from the stove, filling the pasta pot with his hose-hand. Continue reading

Fairfield Scribes: Fat raindrops ricochet off the princess cut diamond and splash onto his bent knee. Thunder fills the gulf between us, drowning my reply in the belly-rattling boom. His friends and family huddle under twinkle lights. The wind tears… Continue reading

Neon&Smoke: The snow started in Sylvia’s living room on Christmas morning. The first flake landed on the arm of her overstuffed recliner, balancing for a breath before melting into the brown polyester. She snatched the handset from the rotary phone… Continue reading

Rat Bag: Ma​​rty shifted on the sidewalk, intentionally bumping the woman wearing a ridiculous tartan cloak and lace bonnet. His jaw clenched at the carolers’ off-key rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” He’d only ventured out on Christmas Eve for… Continue reading

Defenestration: Dude, how many brownies did we eat?” Snake’s languid voice drawled from behind him. Matt pulled himself to his feet and took in the surroundings. He was behind the long glass counter filled with knives, axes, and other metal… Continue reading

Moonflake Review: The morning the world imploded, Jolie Lunn’s mom made cinnamon buns. She was sliding them from the oven when Jolie and her best friend Amber emerged from her bedroom giggling.  Continue reading

Wildscape: Metaphors are failing me. The ups and downs of a rollercoaster, the chaos and resettling of a snow globe, the horror of a worm burrowing through your apple. Continue reading