Sometimes, modern life feels dried out and far away from what nourishes. In our chase to connect, we climb ladders that promise better tomorrows and disconnect from what feels good under our feet. We forget the […]

Doris said, “Seems like it might snow. First of the season.”

She turned from where she stood in front of the kitchen window and looked at Martin. He was sitting at the table holding a nearly full glass of mil […]



Podcast: Down and out and on the brink of even worse.

A short story performed by Joe Guay.

Read the story online: Turkeys by R.H. Emmers

Last month, as we celebrated our daughter’s 17th birthday, it struck me that we would enjoy only one more birthday celebration together as a family unit before she heads off to college. Her birthday falls in O […]

I probably started working towards becoming an artist in middle school in Charlottesville. I made little comics to sell to my friends and I’d fill up my homework and test sheets with doodles in the […]

The familiar constriction arose in her chest. She followed the dark echoes of her husband’s steps; his gait sober as cold coffee. Heel, toe. March. She giggled at the image of her husband as a soldier. Hi […]

I was typing my alternate ID number into the keypad at my (formerly) favorite grocery store when the perky cashier asked if I qualified for Senior Discount Thursday. My finger froze midair.

“Excuse m […]

My name is Mario Loprete. I live in Catanzaro, a small Calabrian city in the south of Italy. We are in the land that the ancient Greeks called “Magna Grecia,” rich in culture and history.

I also travel a l […]

Tara Lindis is the 3rd place winner of Streetlight Magazine’s 2018 Flash Fiction Contest.

The children do not have life jackets. We give them ours. Their slender arms slide through the adult sized holes, […]

It’s hard being human, especially when the world feels hard. Nowadays, we live in a fishbowl of constant exposure to the unnatural noise of unnatural tweets and digital pings, chimes, and chirps. I miss bird song […]

Katherine Smith is the 2nd place winner of Streetlight Magazine’s 2018 Flash Fiction Contest.

The coffee was bitter and good in La Palette, Carol’s favored café off the Boulevard Saint Germain. Ten ye […]

I was born in Montreal, Quebec. My parents were highly cultured people; they had a large collection of books on art, music and sculpture. I was a curious child and doubtless my parents’ interests rubbed […]

Christine West is the 1st place winner of Streetlight Magazine’s 2018 Flash Fiction Contest.

My social anxiety as a high schooler was grossly misdiagnosed as maturity by adults. I wasn’t seen as shy, b […]

“Simply to look on anything, such as a mountain, with the love that penetrates to its essence, is to widen the domain of being in the vastness of non-being. Man has no other reason for his existence.”

—Nan She […]

He emerged from the bushes clutching a bottle of wine, his face whipped red by the wind. They were huddled together in the clearing. Dry tufts of winter grass poked through the ratty blanket on which they sat. […]

“Be an ant,” he says.

“Don’t look at the whole project at once and try to do it,” says my stone-steady, clear-eyed, logical-thinking husband. “Be an ant. Do what’s in front of you. Do this one thing, take t […]

You Held My Hand And Walked Me Out Of The Water
 

Sometimes I look at the photos of my parents before they were sick to try and find clues of the diseases to come. There’s one of them courtside at a P […]

I was sitting at the bar in the My-Oh-My drinking what was left of my disability check after buying oxy from the retarded janitor at the hospital. The idea of killing someone hadn’t come up yet. I kept staring a […]

I hate the scent of imitation lemon in dish soap. It’s too concentrated to be authentic. But the scent will lose potency once I dilute it in water. That’s always the trick. Dilute what’s unpleasant. Dilute […]