Amy Boyes has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2023 Essay/Memoir Contest The hibiscuses arrived in six-inch grower pots. Packed for cold weather in a foil and Styrofoam-lined box, they had journeyed in a transport trailer to my grandmother’s prairie flower shop. “Careful, those are live plants!” Grandma would warn, as if “LIVE PLANTS” emblazed on the cardboard box was an insufficient indication. Deposited on the shop floor, the box remained until a knife or pair of scissors could be fetched. Typically, neither was found and a substitute tool was employed—pruning clippers or even … Continue reading The Hibiscus by Amy Boyes→
The back of Bill’s neck smells for some reason of peach and is delightfully warm to my lips. He murmurs something I don’t catch but sounds like a note of appreciation. I turn my attention to the tangles of his hair, scented with some fairly pleasant chemical with overtones of coconut. He makes no further comment but squeezes back into my embrace, warm inside his thick toweling bathrobe. I’ve caught him on the landing. The sun streams in through the roof light as if the gods are pouring honey. “What time is it?” he asks. … Continue reading The Cat Goddess of Apartment 15B by Alex Barr→
Art runs in my family. My great grandfather was an architect in Germany before they immigrated to the U.S. before WWI. His daughter, my grandmother, was a businesswoman, but painted in oils and pastels most of her life. Early on, I remember my father’s beautiful blueprint drawings of the houses he designed and the funny cartoons he loved to draw. He painted in oils. I’ve always drawn, and began private oil painting lessons at fourteen. I attended the Honolulu Museum of Arts Academy, a two year degree in commercial and fine art. I’ve … Continue reading The Paintings of Jeannine Regan→
Fat Auntie Ursal with her coffee-breath, baggy pink house dress, and worried rosary beads would haul a basket of linen to the backyard, pick clothespins out of her mouth, and staple sheets to the line. When it rained, I rushed to watch Auntie panic-waddle into our backyard, eyes wide, rosary flying, as she pulled down the pristine sheets as if lowering the mainsail in a gale. Later, she’d plead with Uncle Pete to buy a dryer, but he couldn’t hear her over the sound he made while sucking food bits out of the crevasses between … Continue reading Laundry by Charlie Brice→
The way someone curates their personal space conveys who they are. For a writer, that’s hugely important. “Show, don’t tell” is a guiding principle of effective storytelling. To wit: the oft-repeated movie scene featuring a wiseass sidekick walking into the leading man’s apartment, lousy with unpacked boxes, and saying, “Love what you’ve done with the place.” The old saw is employed because decorating—or its opposite—carries a lot of information. If you’re writing a character, ask yourself if the character’s home is consistent with other aspects of the personality you are trying to impart. As a … Continue reading The Importance Of Interior Design In Writing by Erika Raskin→
God must be, I dare now to say, like a cat, with His / Her / Its impertinence and delays in ordering our lives, loves and ways of being whoever we think we are, or might be. I’ve learned this from my own clever pet, Kestane, who is happily (I suppose) grooming herself as she lies curled up in the wicker chair across from where I sit in my rocker, having my penultimate drink of the evening and trying again to understand what drives us in our conceptions of divinity. She’s not, or, perhaps, she … Continue reading God by Mel Kenne→
Today, we stream any song we can find, google obscure one-hit wonders, and watch anyone make their own music videos on TikTok, but back before they were delegated as punch lines to jokes about music history, we loved our 8-track tapes. The 8-track tape, a magnetic tape sound recording device enclosed in a plastic container, was popular from the late 1960s until the early 1980s. Although the quality of the sound was problematic, the protective casing was rather sturdy. Plus, 8-track tapes had the added bonus of continuous play, unlike their counterpart, the cassette, that … Continue reading Why I Loved the 8-Track by Karen Weyant→
Jeffrey Coughter has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2023 Essay/Memoir Contest On a sunny, breezy late October morning in 1959, I was among a handful of kindergartners waiting for a school bus near the front stoop of Boucher’s, a restaurant at the corner of Long Ridge Road and Stark Place in Stamford, Conn. The bus was late, but we didn’t know how late. We were all five, or nearly five years old, and “time,” when you’re five is not quite the same as when you’re sixty-five. We waited that crisp, autumn morning, as … Continue reading The Bus Was Late: a Stamford Memory by Jeffrey Coughter→
Jo Riglar is the 3rd place winner of Streetlight‘s Flash Fiction Contest I reached the waterfall as the rain started. Little vicious drops. A breeze bothered the trees. An angry dog in the distance. I rested on a flat rock, no moss, but cold and damp under my thighs. A summer sun was thwarted in its mission by the grey of the clouds. When I was a child I used to chase clouds, sat in a light chair and raising my face in worship. I remembered that now. It was a hopeless enterprise. ‘Nice day … Continue reading Waterfall by Jo Riglar→
I wanted to write about hunting season here in the rural countryside, the howling packs of dogs, the men and women who sit in muddy trucks on the side of the road with loaded guns, waiting, and the orphaned black bear cubs. I also wanted to write about my Mississippi cousin who transported cross-country in the back of his Toyota pickup, a taxidermied bear’s head bagged on a Native American reservation in New Mexico. But October calls me, like the wild and wild things, to write about my wild nephew. He will be turning twenty … Continue reading Call of the Wild by Trudy Hale→
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