In February by Rodd Whelpley
I miss the cricketsand cicadas – string section of a glorious summer.The bows and arrows,the whole historyof Valentinescan never be the equalof the after-sunset humon June the fifth, heat lightning or else a violent storm – strobe light of clouds.The syncopated ticksof beetles on the window glass.The ache of winter absentin the marrow.…
Message From a Distant Planet by John Grey
We apologize for our shipand the poor souls who occupy it.It’s piloted from afar.Distant computers have guided it through meteorite armiesand the clouds of cosmic dust,but the engines cannot burn their fuel forever.We had to land it somewhere.I’m sorry it had to be your planet. I feel pity at your welcoming.Your…
Quantum Love Letters by Meagan Noel Hart
June 10th, 1998 I hold up the pair of skeleton keys, clipped together with a golden seven keychain. Mother’s only forty-eight but the cancer makes her seem older. “You’ll need those to contact him.” She means my father. A man I’ve met twice. A man who blamed his life long…
The Time Train by Thai Lynne
Dallas is waiting for a train. She is slumped on a smooth marble bench, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, chest heavy with the occasional shuddering breath. She looks out over the water, clear blue reflecting the sparkling sun and perfect fluffy clouds. It is like…
The Boy in the Tree by Craig Rodgers
There once was a boy in a tree in a forest. This was his home, in that forest, in that tree. It was a young forest, not overgrown or forbidding, a place of verdant life and cool earth, a painting all browns and greens. The boy would walk for days under the…
The Directory by Rebecca Coyte
Airports have always terrified me. It may seem foolish that something as innocuous as an airport could instill such fear in a person, but the idea of them positively disturbs me. That tentative, in-between place where people last touched ground, soon to board a gravity-defying, cylindrical enclosed tube, about to…
The Boat Train by Philip Berry
It was the best thing, perhaps the only really good thing, I did as a journalist. Or didn’t do. My noble omission. I was 24 years old. I had been following them for two weeks; Charles Dickens and Ellen Ternan, his mistress. He had known her for eight years and had somehow…
Though I Work in the Shadows by Hunter Blackwell
“I heard the land is cursed,” the blond says to the young boy. They work on planting tomato seeds. We made the ever-so-silent-acknowledgement-eye-contact when I walked into the gardens. But nothing more. “If you listen in the middle of the night, you can hear the wails of those who died…
Combustible by Gale Acuff
Miss Hooker’s my Sunday School teacher andshe tells me that I’m going to go toHell if I don’t get saved before I die,which could happen at any time, dyingthat is, then I’d wake up dead in Heavenjust in time to be judged, if there’s anytime there, that is, fit for…
Roaming Yellowstone by Suzanne Cottrell
My husband and I were leery of tent camping in an unfamiliar wilderness with potential bear encounters, so we chose to stay in a rustic cabin in the Roosevelt/Tower area of Yellowstone National Park. “Let’s go on a horseback ride,” suggested my husband, an experienced rider. “Can’t we just drive…
Take Us On A Journey To Somewhen
