Paying Our Respects by Connie Clark
Going to visit a dead body has seemed bizarre to me since my first such occasion when I was five or six years old. Like any good Southern family, we had seemingly countless numbers of old ladies populating the family tree. Most of them were a little scary, I thought. They were somebody’s second-cousin-twice-removed or a great-aunt or Neva’s mother-in-law, someone whose life and death had little bearing on my life. But Mom and Daddy took me with them to the funeral home for the Visitation, an occasion taken very seriously in my family. We … Continue reading Paying Our Respects by Connie Clark
All Out in Beijing by Marcia Yudkin
The shuffling of Zhao Yihe, my boss, down the office corridor came to a shocked halt when he saw me. With his hair wet, his feet in plastic slippers and a towel draped around his neck, he must have come from the bathhouse at the back of the office compound. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were shower days for men, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays for women. “Did you miss the bus?” he asked. “No, I’m eating lunch here now, downstairs,” I replied. Foreign experts like myself normally took a private bus back to our hotel … Continue reading All Out in Beijing by Marcia Yudkin
I tell my wife we are all drawn to sadness by Casey Killingsworth
Nothing changes after the year we spend our Sunday mornings offering tea to the homeless in the shadow of the Mission, you know, fashion philanthropy. No paradise, no floats in the parade, no graphs moving up or down. We still wake up to the same mornings, our hungry souls staring at their hungry souls staring at our breakfasts through the television set. The last time I looked the world doesn’t operate according to serving tea on Sundays. It just keeps turning and spitting out more sadness, and we stick around for those few occasions when … Continue reading I tell my wife we are all drawn to sadness by Casey Killingsworth
2026 Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin and Mary Esselman
We were privileged again to read a vast expanse of small worlds through our flash fiction contest. And once again, the different structures and backstories and characters made the subjective task of landing on overlapping favorites difficult work. There is no scientific formula for evaluation. Just two hearts touched in one way or another. All of which is to say we are honored to announce that “The Cat and The Man,” by Laura Halpin was awarded first and Daniel Lowe’s “Mosaic,” second. They are both wonderful. Thank you, thank you to all who sent in … Continue reading 2026 Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin and Mary Esselman
Prep work by Katherine Gotthardt
The last thing I drank was clear. The number of times I’ve had to repeat this reproduces, every anesthesiologist preparing for vomit, I guess. My apologies — I did not mean to spit that out, start your day with such a gross sort of showering, you alongside me, half naked on a frigid table, foaming like a geyser’s mouth. I meant to say something more profound, poetic, give you a peaceful tributary of words, a transparent shallow that, if you sit still in it long enough, you hardly feel anything but weightless. Yet everything known … Continue reading Prep work by Katherine Gotthardt
Looking for Definition by Fred Wilbur
If the misery of our poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin. —Charles Darwin,Voyage of the Beagle There is some question as to Definition’s whereabouts, its opportunity, its motive: our mystery character in an imagined scenario. The first place to look for the culprit is in the dictionary (any Google search will do.) You probably would begin such a search by typing “definition of ‘definition’?” It has, however, multi-faceted explanations (and I’m more or less quoting now): 1) the act of defining or … Continue reading Looking for Definition by Fred Wilbur
fitting places into a suitcase by Hibbah Haddam
how do i fit a city into a suitcase and how do i fit the feeling of waking with the sunrise or not sleeping until the stars blur how do i fit the scent of a rose peeking through cracks of concrete, fragrant plumeria blossoms lining streets, the comfort of seeing rows of olive trees little dots on a hill, or being surrounded by mountains wiser and older than all who inhabit their foothills how do i fit a city into a suitcase? the quiet nods as greetings of friendly hello when spoken languages don’t … Continue reading fitting places into a suitcase by Hibbah Haddam
The Vibrant Paintings of Mahmoud Elmardi
Mahmoud Elmardi, a Sudanese visual artist and novelist currently based in Cairo, explores how physical and spiritual landscapes overlap, his aim to document the subtle nuances of cultural heritage and displacement. “My artistic roots run deep into the 1990s, specifically in Bahri, a historic district of Khartoum, Sudan,” Elmardi remembers. “As a child, I didn’t just paint what I saw; I channeled mythical figures from my imagination, heavily influenced by the classic animation of that era—shows like The Adventures of Sinbad and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This early obsession unexpectedly led to my winning a children’s … Continue reading The Vibrant Paintings of Mahmoud Elmardi
Knowing and Oh My, 2 poems by Julia Falcinelli
Last night the dreams poured in through the window. The plants, brought in for the first threat of freeze, let them rest and take stock on their last leaves. The dreams— knowing so much— didn’t know where to enter when I taped my mouth shut. And then they just became me, and I became the window, which amounted to nothing but seeing. I woke up in the back of my head and my understanding of the size of the sky turned purple, pink, and apricot. I think my place on this earth is in my … Continue reading Knowing and Oh My, 2 poems by Julia Falcinelli
Flare, Strobe, Pulse by Jeffrey Kane
Christine Wilcox is the 3rd place winner of Streetlight‘s 2026 Essay/Memoir Contest She slips into Mass during the processional, as if she’s part of it. But she’s on the left aisle, not the center, where the incense trails the short, skinny acolyte like a contrail, briefly enshrouding Father Johnny Johnson. For a moment he looks like something. She keeps pace with the thurifer, then sidesteps right into a pew about seven back. The first thing you notice about her is the Santa hat. Campy red velour, with the white trim, and the snowball tassel, too. But, to … Continue reading Flare, Strobe, Pulse by Jeffrey Kane