On Being Threatened with Hellfire in the Second Grade by Martha Woodroof
My father was an atheist; my mother, an agnostic. My parents preached conscience and character to their two daughters instead of dogma. I grew up in Greensboro, N.C., a city with seven colleges. Outside of academic circles, however, society was rigidly constrained by the Bible Belt. Pictures of a blue-eyed, blond-haired Jesus were omnipresent. The judgmental Yahweh of the Old Testament thundered from a lot of Christian church pulpits on Sunday mornings. All my school friends went to Sunday School and church. As far as I could tell, the primary goal of their religious experience … Continue reading On Being Threatened with Hellfire in the Second Grade by Martha Woodroof
Lost in Tech by Stryk Thomas
“Welcome! How can I help you today?” I asked as the store doors opened. The first customer was an older gentleman who I’d glimpsed pacing outside like a taunted zoo lion for at least a half hour before we unlocked the door. “You’re finally open,” he gritted through his teeth. “I’m here to get a new phone.” So began one of many interactions I have as a writer who moonlights in sales for a certain technology company. The retail store is frequented by diverse customers. The wants, needs, and preferences vary as wide as desire. … Continue reading Lost in Tech by Stryk Thomas
Turner and Bobby by Debra King
When I was a toddler, I named my hands “Turner” and “Bobby.” Turner was my dominant right hand, the one used to access closed doors and cupboards. My parents say I blamed “Turner” when I spilled a glass of milk. “Bobby” was the diminutive for Robert, my father’s name. He would take my left hand when we walked or crossed the street. It is debatable whether this phase of early childhood can be remembered by a child of two, or if it is imprinted because I have heard more than once the story as told … Continue reading Turner and Bobby by Debra King
What’s Worthy and Hue, 2 poems by Tim Suermondt
What’s Worthy “A man is only as good as his word,” my father used to say and I’ve tried to live up to that—even now I hate telling the smallest, inconsequential lie. In a scene from How Green Was My Valley one of the coalminer’s sons says to his coalminer father “If manners prevent us from speaking the truth, then we will be without manners” and I like to think my days of being without has been bountiful, despite some missteps my father must have committed too. On the whole, my father would have been … Continue reading What’s Worthy and Hue, 2 poems by Tim Suermondt
Mayim by Nancy Ludmerer
Nancy Ludmerer is the 1st place winner of Streetlight‘s 2020 Flash Fiction Contest The Lubavitch Hasidim are sending two teen volunteers to spend time with our daughter. I resist at first, but Mattie’s Special Ed teacher explains that it’s a mitzvah for the girls, who are sixteen—a special program started by a rabbi’s wife. She says I should let them come; it might be good for Mattie. She hasn’t seen Mattie smile in the eight months since her mom died. If Kayla were alive, she would have fumed: “We’re not religious. What will they … Continue reading Mayim by Nancy Ludmerer
Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin
It is no easy task to provide a peek into a textured world, with backstory, present and possibility —in only five hundred words. The writers who submitted to our Flash Fiction Contest took on the challenge and we are so grateful they did. The first prize goes to Mayim by Nancy Ludmerer, a story that has history, loss and a beautiful splash of hope. Next to Godliness by Sheila Longton pulls back the curtain on dual childhood tragedies and Self, Expression by Annie Holzman reveals the loneliness of the last chapter. On behalf of Suzanne … Continue reading Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin
Black Satin Petunias by J.R. Solonche
I bought black flowers today. Black Satin petunias. And they really are black. Like the shadows of petunias. My wife says I bought them because I’m in love with death. I say I bought them because they’re unusual, and we’ve never had black flowers before. Besides black is my favorite color and has been since I was a kid, since I asked my Russian grandfather what his favorite color was, and he said it was black because black was God’s favorite color. He said even after God created light and all the colors of the … Continue reading Black Satin Petunias by J.R. Solonche
The Enormous Gift by Laura Marello
Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer. Simone Weil Love is not merely an emotion. It is a meltdown that reestablishes a more unified space of brilliance, goodness, and sadness. This is the real function of love in spiritual tradition. Lama Lodro Dorje Last week, the week before my last semester of university teaching (online, in an unprecedented pandemic), I had the most extraordinary experience with a stranger that I have ever had in my long life. I was nervous as always about the semester starting, but extra nervous because of what that last full-time teaching … Continue reading The Enormous Gift by Laura Marello
Regulars by Colin Webb
which birds are out? you can count on your favorite ones, usually some finches here—-they arrive all-colored by the thicket from other people’s timbered properties & short-lived playgrounds, when it will smell like honeysuckle, you can count on that Colin Webb is a native of Baltimore, Md. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in White Wall Review, Apeiron Review, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, The Northern Virginia Review, and elsewhere, and he has been a finalist for The Arch Street Prize. Follow us!
A Sign by Carol Jeffers
Carol Jeffers is an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2020 Essay/Memoir Contest “Stephanie wanted you to have her eyes,” her sister Susie said. “Please say you’ll take them.” That was in 2018, the second time she died. *** Seven years earlier, the blips on the monitor flat-lined, the alarm went off. The ICU team flew into action. Gloved hands thumped her chest, injected epinephrine, jolted her silent heart. Seconds ticked by. Minutes. Stephanie’s soul was suspended, a chrysalis dormant among the milkweeds. She languished between the light and the dark. That was the first time my … Continue reading A Sign by Carol Jeffers