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The wind? I seen it alright
Fiction by Sheldon Birnie The wind, the wind, the goddamn wind off the big lake has been roaring over us for days and nights on end; sending wave after countless wave crashing into the rocky shore; howling over the roof, slapping hard at the windows, and cutting in under the eaves and through the cracks…
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Birds of Prey
Fiction by Kelle Schillaci Clarke Three bees come in on his sleeve. They start small but quickly transform in her mind into the size of calliope hummingbirds, thrashing around in the tent’s thick, humid air, slamming their fuzzy bodies against the canvas walls while she ducks and hides. “Hey little fella,” he says, gently cupping…
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Sugar
Fiction by Marvin Shackelford Mama loved that tree, but Dad wanted it gone. Afternoons when thunderheads rolled in from the north he’d stand on the porch and pray, or I thought he was praying, for a storm to come in hard and drop a bolt of lightning right on its top, splinter it straight into…
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The Screech Owl
Fiction by Chris McGinley 1901, Black Boar Mountain, Eastern Kentucky Lydia stood under the old oak tree, close enough to see the vibration in the breast of the screech owl that sat in a hollow up the trunk. She tried to predict the timing of the bird’s eerie call, to sing out just as the…
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Vultures Are Everywhere
Fiction by Dave Gregory Lucas relaxes on his front porch, reading, and is jarred by a sudden pulse and buzz from his phone. An Amber Alert glows on his screen. Every working cellphone, across the province, simultaneously receives the same urgent text message. Twelve million people read together: an eight-year-old boy is missing. The suspect…
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Deer
Fiction by Nick Gardner Lissa hit her hash pen and curved the county roads through mid-Ohio, hoping to forget about the grad school apps Tom had left tabbed up on his MacBook like he wanted her to find them, mouse hovering over submit. He was applying for Gender Studies in places like Tallahassee, Baton Rouge,…
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Porcellanidae
Fiction by Mandira Pattnaik In our parts, the crab-girls wear skirts a little above their knees, twist their arms to look like unfurled bright petals. They glaze porcelain bodies to resemble a trap, a floret blooming. In times such as ours, the crab-girls lie to their mothers, use swear words, race their cycles with boys…
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Through the Trees, On a River
Fiction by Scott Gates His mama had told him it was too hot to be outside after ten, to come on inside, but the heat didn’t bother him. He had nice spot on a little rise near the pond, and he watched the still water from between two of the five trees on their property.…
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Perseids, World’s End, Last Year
Fiction by S.E. Hartz As I roll my dad up the hill from the parking lot of the World’s End Country Club, I pray for the clouds to part and make this all worth it. Dad’s gripping his hands to stop his tremors, and I can hear him working the dentures into his gums, nervous…