by J. Paul Ross UNNATURAL OCCURRENCE ON KLONDIKE STREET [From the Weekly Standard Gazette, September 15, 2019] In all my years covering the important goings on in our fair city, never before has this reporter witnessed a tale like the one I am about to describe. It is so amazing, so unbelievable that it may
by Francine Witte One day, Elm Street turns purple. Amethyst, lilac, and mauve. Everything, everywhere licked with it. Mr. Jones, from what used to be the yellow house, steps out on his mulberry lawn. This is the work of hoodlums, he says. He drives away to find the police, his car leaving deep orchid fumes.
by Sue Brennan Aaron figured out which waitress was the one in the story. He’d come here before midday because in the story Eva complained about having to get ready for work while trying not to disturb her sleeping boyfriend, Geoff. Aaron varied his visits between 7am and midday over a week. There were three
by Shoshauna Shy She met her true soulmate under a beach umbrella on Nantucket Island, felt like she dodged a bullet, but eventually Soulmate returned to his wife. He took up with a Finnish bricklayer who already had custody of a couple of kids, and neither of them ever came around to liking him. She
by David Hallock Sanders A thin crescent moon hung low above the other apartments. The bright arc cradled the moon’s faint, red shadow. The new moon in the old moon’s arms, he thought. That’s what his father used to call it. Terry’s head throbbed. His 60-year-old body ached. He hadn’t taught a yoga class in
by Karen DeGroot Carter If I was a punctuation mark, I’d be a semicolon; I can never leave well enough alone. Like if a stranger sits next to me and Ellie on a stool in a coffee shop and says so much as hello, I’ll tell them my life story. Which life story I tell