Spooned out formed by force of gravity diameter to be determined, from silver dollar to as big as a frisbee. Over burning embers, prehistoric ancestors flipped and peeled them off flat granite, their aroma luring cave dwellers from their hairy sleep. The same flapjacks I begged for at Bozo the Clown TV lunches when I ran home from school at noon and ran back at 12:45, tracking a mile burning off whatever I ate. Oh, circle of sustenance, you’ve been working class fare from B.C. to the 21st century or are you just the Mardi … Continue reading Pancakes by Cynthia Gallaher→
Weddings create their own weather. I had no idea. I did not have a big wedding myself. It was spontaneous and the only white article of clothing I had that wild night in the Hollywood Hills was my white satin nightgown. I sometimes regretted that I did not have the confidence to have a real wedding. Now, my daughter is to be married next month, here, in my home, and the village and I am caught up in the matrimonial turbulence. One such storm, the wedding wardrobe. In the spring, she searched for her dress. … Continue reading The Wedding Dress by Trudy Hale→
I am back in Seoul after a fourteen-hour flight, fresh off the airport shuttle and into the city center, at the Nine Tree Hotel check-in desk. It’s a square area on the fifth floor of the building, with moon jars balancing stems of white orchids, their swirling shapes reflected on the marble floors. I had left my condo, a haven of peace in Montreal, frantically clutching my iPhone. For two weeks, I had waited for a message or a call from Jun. But he’d ghosted me. Once I parked the carry-on in the tall, walnut-panelled wardrobe, … Continue reading The Secret Garden by Irina Moga→
………………………………………….After Fragonard’s Les Hasards heureux d’escarpolette Fragonard’s lady sways among the clouds. while gentlemen pull at cords to help her float. An accidental shoe tumbles from stockinged foot. Ruffled and peachy skirts, pastel cushions bespeak her wealth and youth, her future set secure as the golden ropes she grasps and holds, her face as pale and smooth as a fragile egg. My brother hung our swing to catch a breeze to stop my mother’s racing heart for rest from housework’s plodding measured due. We’d sit and wait for beat to gentle down. I’d snuggle up … Continue reading Swings by Joyce Compton Brown→
The school bus is squeaking past again, there’s a pumpkin/watermelon cage match in the produce aisle and — most critically — the annual influx of dynamite entries in Streetlight’s flash fiction contest have been read! As before, the judges were gifted with glimpses of whole worlds built a mere five hundred words at a time. Some captured the quotidian, others, terror; some broke our hearts and a few, too, were laugh-out-loud funny. (You’ll see.) All of which means that picking winners was freaking hard. We are not talking about a bridge design competition which … Continue reading It’s Fall (ish) And The Flash Fiction Results Are In! by Erika Raskin and Mary Esselman→
I never sort my clothes. Sorry, mom. Sure, my whites gray and colors fade, but they all go into the same load. All share the same daily sweat and stink. I leave them clean in a basket all week and must sort what I may wear that day. I’m jeans or slacks. Oxford or tee. My socks match up—what’s beneath nobody sees. My machine rattles with forgotten coins, a pocket knife I never use, the odd bolt or rock I might pocket. Sometimes, I find crumpled bills, all crisp after dryer cycle, a surprise from … Continue reading Self Portrait as a Pile of Dirty Laundry by Jeff Newberry→
Amelia Zahm is the third place winner of Streetlight’s 2025 Essay/Memoir Contest Long strides carry her forward. I hear joy, that annoying tone of cheerful morning people. Sharon’s joy vibrates from her chest and carries the lilt of her voice toward the sky. “What a day!” She bounces over the grass, her grin infectious as it widens across her freckled cheeks. She stops for a moment, cradling the black jumping saddle against her belly. The brilliant May sun glints from the round gold frame of her glasses as she tilts her face upward, eyes closed. … Continue reading Combined Training by Amelia Zahm→
Trixie Dougan Bijou Bellman was my mom’s dachshound when she was a kid. Though extremely short, Trixie had a rich and independent life. She walked around their Minneapolis neighborhood, giving wide berth to the front yard of Mrs. Sinclair whose reputation as a witch had clearly been conveyed cross-species.The abbreviated pet traveled an impressive circuit that included a stop at my great aunt and uncle’s place for some type of biscuit. This was apparently surprising in that, according to my grandfather, my uncle was notoriously tight. (Grandpa swore his brother-in-law bought one top shelf … Continue reading What Do Dogs Do All Day? by Erika Raskin→
Remember that time you spent five whole dollars on a ticket to win a calf at the fair? What you thought we’d do with a little cow, I have no idea. We lived in a two-room apartment. We wandered through the trade hall, looking at things to improve and repair a home we wouldn’t have for twenty-five years, considering where a hot tub might go, if we had a place, or what sort of siding would look best. We made an investment in ourselves, paid a small deposit with a promise that, after a year … Continue reading Hope by Carlene M. Gadapee→
I possess a book on reading at the beach. How to Read a North Carolina Beach* is one of those few books you need a beach to enjoy fully, one that prompts you to verify its contents by actually walking on the beach! The notion of reading at the beach began in the latter nineteenth century with the rise of summer vacations (not necessarily all at the beach) and this leisure time to read was promoted by the publishing industry producing entertaining, light, or fun works of literature. Thus, “beach read” eventually rose as … Continue reading Let the Leaves Turn by Fred Wilbur→
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