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 →
I took the cheeseburger out of the bag and started eating it while I walked to my car. Harold was in the parking lot. They were beating his ass again. Chuck and Dave and Brian and maybe Roger and Rick were there too. Harold crouched in the circle, his twiggy arms over his head. Reuben, Chuck called. Give this thing a kick. I gave him a good kick. He was like a bag of mulch with some air stuck in it. I gave Chuck a thumb’s up and finished my burger in my car. … Continue reading Spring Gables Wolf Attack by Andrew Friedman →
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 →
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 →
Joy. Love. Silliness. These words come to Eileen French’s mind when asked to describe her paintings. A figurative artist at the McGuffey Art Center in Charlottesville, French’s oversized portraits feature men and women at play and in spontaneous scenes that suggest animated narratives. French’s recent McGuffey show was called Kinship, a collection of paintings that celebrate the connections between us all, a confluence of souls. Among her paintings are a number that celebrate her daughter, Whitney. She died as a result of domestic violence in 2017 in Charlottesville. She was thirty-three years old. While … Continue reading Eileen French’s Figurative Paintings Celebrate Kinship →
Streetlight Voices: Short Fiction & Memoir · Thank You For Calling by Margaret Watson Podcast: “Thank you for Calling” is a story about endings. A fictional story performed by Jennifer Sims. Read the story online: “Thank you for Calling” by Margaret Watson Jennifer Sims is an actor and voice over artist who has voiced hundreds of projects across all genres. After attending the American Academy of Dramatic Arts she wandered into a career in advertising. She worked as an ad agency producer for ten years before she found her way back to her creative path … Continue reading Thank you for Calling by Margaret Watson →
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