A Matter Of Time by Janis Jaquith
Fiction is the lie that tells the truth. The truth is that there was a fire, six people died, and it was intentionally set. The spirit of Lisa prevails to help us understand … all of it. *** Lisa Landers, age seven September 26, 1969 A chess game: that was the dream. My brother Harry had been teaching me how to play. But now, instead of moving the pieces around the board, I WAS one of the pieces: little, with a round head, a pawn. A giant’s hand blocked the light as it reached down … Continue reading A Matter Of Time by Janis Jaquith
The world’s ugliest coffee table. Probably made by Martha Stewart in prison by Wayne Bowman
OK. Here’s the back story. A couple of years ago, I walked into the living room one Sunday morning, and noticed one of the big pillows my wife and I use to sit on the floor while we watch TV, was out of its usual storage place under the sofa. I turned to kick it back under the sofa, and as I did, I twisted my knee. I have very bad knees. A twist usually means the immediate loss of the use of my leg. This was the case, and I fell backward, landing on … Continue reading The world’s ugliest coffee table. Probably made by Martha Stewart in prison by Wayne Bowman
The Thinly Disguised Autobiography by Miles Fowler
By the time I reached my teens, I was taken with the idea of writing a fictionalized autobiography, but as my college roommate, Barry, observed, no one will want to read my autobiography if I have led a dull life. He was right, of course, but I had already considered that problem and thought I had solved it with the novel—if overly precious—notion of setting my autobiographical account in the nineteenth century even though I lived in the twentieth. This would have required historical research to figure out what would be the same and what … Continue reading The Thinly Disguised Autobiography by Miles Fowler
2024 Flash Fiction Contest by Erika Raskin
Once again, we had the opportunity to read a (virtual) stack of flash fiction pieces that have enlarged our worlds—and we are grateful. As usual, we employed the Venn Diagram method of settling on the winners, each listing our own top choices and then selecting from those that overlapped. It’s an interesting way of judging because deeply held favorites may not even ‘medal’. But that pretty much underscores the subjective nature of contests (or, you know, anything.) What speaks to one person might not, another. Which is all to say—that, contests aside, the truly … Continue reading 2024 Flash Fiction Contest by Erika Raskin
For Notre Dame by Sian M. Jones
An 800-year-old cathedral is burning to the ground. The world is in horror that things, too, can die, though we thought them immune or immortal. We thought beauty could save, or fondness, or all the photos we took and took. But the spire is collapsing, and the roof. A black skeleton against the metal-bright flames. Nothing can save you or any other thing. The mitochondria in my cells are burning their last. Powerhouse trinkets from my mother and the mothers before her. I’m the end of them. Even if I’d had children, it would have … Continue reading For Notre Dame by Sian M. Jones
Tips For Aging Women by Christine McDowell Tucker
Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that you’re considering getting old. We don’t recommend this course of action, of course, because the risks greatly outweigh the advantages. But if you must age, here are a few tips to help you navigate what can be a fun time in your life, if you take the proper precautions. Keep in mind that the main skill required for this period of your life is that of settling; as in settling for things you had never considered you would need to settle for in the first place. … Continue reading Tips For Aging Women by Christine McDowell Tucker
Before the Ambulance and Dandelion, 2 poems by Dennis Cummings
Before the Ambulance I saw him collapse on the trail that divides the golf course, then climbs and looks over the valley crowded with townhouses for fifty-five and older. If we entered the fallen man’s home we could see the forever stamps in folded sheaths of waxed paper neatly tucked beside reading glasses, an hourglass, and gadgets that calculate distance and day. We’d see the unused weekly planners and the used that annotated the meetings with doctors and accountants and one for a lawyer that was crossed out. As the siren from down the hill … Continue reading Before the Ambulance and Dandelion, 2 poems by Dennis Cummings
Downstairs by Gary Duehr
What’s happening to me? Downstairs I can hear my wife Ann with our two-year-old Isabella, their sounds bubbling up from the kitchen. The scrape of spoon on bowl. The cooed urgings: Another bite? Zoom zoom! Izzy’s delighted yawp. But for some reason I can’t go down the stairs. Every time I try, lowering my right foot onto the top step, the paddded carpet giving way, I start to lose my balance and heave myself back up, almost knocking the wedding photo of my mom and dad off the wall. I feel groggy like I’ve … Continue reading Downstairs by Gary Duehr
The (Very Uncomfortable) Art of Letting Go: When Movers Lose All Your Furniture by Katie Wilkes
“Your new life is gonna cost you your old one.” —Margot Berman I forget if it was around the time of a full moon or another supercharged energy portal that I tend to lose track of, but just when I had made the decision to try out this nomadic lifestyle, an intuitive friend posted that message online. It felt kinda ominous. But also reassuring that as giant of a leap as this was, it was also arriving at a fitting time. Sure, I thought, it’ll cost me familiarities and conveniences of DC life. Creature comforts … Continue reading The (Very Uncomfortable) Art of Letting Go: When Movers Lose All Your Furniture by Katie Wilkes
Little Napalm Girl by Jean Mikhail
On the black and white TV, we watched silently, as an American soldier fell into a field of static like he was falling fast asleep, tumbling down the screen, out of sync with the signal, dropping one horizontal line at a time. Then, someone’s daughter came running out to us with her arms raised. They called her the Little Napalm Girl because she burned with Napalm’s invisible fire. She looked to be exactly my age at the time, caught on the camera in this first war, televised. My dad didn’t want me to see her, … Continue reading Little Napalm Girl by Jean Mikhail