“Finding the Body from a Death by Suicide” by Paulette Callen What Dark shattered –(Razor shards scattered) –That cut the threads that held me so? What Dark separatesPlanets, stars, and arbitratesBetween “London, 1888” by Bhupin Butaney Sit young girl to hear a horrid tale of macabre murder.The day is dim and dank, inviting morbid death. A “The Drive” by Jodie McMahon-Joseph Uninvited I shake the dirt from my cold, stiff hands. “Almost done,” I mutter. The worn leather cuff shifts down, “The Magpie” by Adam Lee After Mark Strand “The world contains too much,and, no matter how long youlive, there is never enough time.” Even the “Little Pond” by William Brasse ‟There's a man drowned in Little Pond!” Sheriff Tray Halberd looked up. His scowling face was not a pleasant sight, “Overbaked Crust and Paper-Thin Cheeks” by Melissa Martini I stopped eating the meals that Mother brought me when I decided that I no longer wanted to exist. She “A Story” by Daniel Revach What a story it would have been,about a man rotting in a self-dug pitwhen gilded wings came down and wrapped “Plague Years” by Paulette Callen It was the whiteness of the whale that above all things appalled me. Herman Melville Moby-Dick He was a “Easy Look of the Dark Folk” by James B. Nicola The darkest strains of pallid privilegeare rarely known by others for their ego or evil now. The meeker, plainer strains,no “Biscuit-Colored, Tan Laces” by Douglas Steward I’m waiting for my prescription at the pharmacy, my stomach churning like basil in a blender. I keep an eye Issue Three: November 2020 It has been a hot summer here in Arizona and it's not over yet. After some brief relief from the “Readme” by Elana Gomel His hands were rough and square-fingered, the skin cracked and red. I imagined them holding a shovel or an ax “On Saunder’s Hill” by Jan Darrow The new people make their presence known. Ticking clocks. Television news. Chicken tacos on the kitchen stove. The townspeople take “Homerton” by Simon Lowe I could see marbled green and slab grey. The Mabley fields and Homerton High Street. I would spend days happily “The Hired Hand” by Hannah Beairsto The harsher the trial sent by God, the more he valued the servant. And he never gave his servants more “The Braided Veil” by Mary Leoson 1898. Lucie wove the fine hair between her fingers and around thin wire, its softness slipping across her skin like “In Sight of the River” by Craig Dobson ‘Here?’ the man shouted. The ferryman nodded, putting the engines into reverse and guiding the boat alongside the small wooden “It’s Just Another Job” by Robert Vaughn It's 9pm on a Friday night. My buddy Vince and I stand in an enormous server room on the top “Family Business” by Ralph Benton My dearest Michelle, Writing this letter is more difficult than anything I have ever done, but it is also the « Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 Next »
