Short Story
The Soul of My Boots
One moment, I’m laughing uncontrollably as my best friend pushes me in a tire swing. The sky pours into my vision as I lean back, a kaleidoscope of sky and clouds peaking through the leaves and branches. I close my eyes, relishing the moment.
By Caitlin Humphreys6 months ago in Fiction
Milk of the Earth
The mahogany trees in Sierra Leone cracked under the worrying sun. Joseph trekked, kicking up dirt with porous sandals. His newborn daughter, Hawa, was cradled against his bare chest, suckling at his nipple. Wincing, he fixed a woven, white cloth over her head.
By Paul Aaron Domenick6 months ago in Fiction
How My World Has Changed
I started life in January 1945. I was ready to go the minute I rolled off the assembly line. The factory shipping department placed me on a train that transported me from Detroit, MI, to a dealership in Little Rock, AR, where I was parked and ignored.
By Mark Gagnon6 months ago in Fiction
When What's To Come, Arrives, Or Does It?
They stood together and watched the sky like drunken toddlers on a rampage. Eyes darting every which way frightened by the slightest movement and jumping at every sound, allowing their excitement and fear to build, distorting what was really happening.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden6 months ago in Fiction
Fire in the Dark
Storytelling began before there was even a word for “story.” Back when the world was still lit by fire and fear, people lived in small circles of light. The nights were longer than they are now, or at least they felt that way. Wind crept through branches like whispers, animals called to each other in voices humans did not yet understand, and the darkness beyond the fire was full of questions.
By Oluremi Adeoye6 months ago in Fiction
Lap Cat. Honorable Mention in Something Is Beginning, I Think Challenge. Top Story - March 2026.
My nose is dripping, and Delia is tracing her fingers through my hair. Her husband is shirtless by the microwave, heating up leftovers from New Year's Eve. In 60 seconds, I'll be shoving mouthfuls of risotto between my quivering lips like a child and picking at semi-stale dinner rolls. Then, I'll pass my plate to one of their three Tabby cats (whom I can never tell apart) and let him/her/them (?) lick it clean.
By Erin Latham Shea6 months ago in Fiction
