Stars above Detroit – By Jonathan B. Ferrini
It was a cold and snowy December when I was handed the address of a “crack house” in one of the deserted and boarded...
Drowning in the Red Sea – By Rebekah Ricksecker
Marta
Teaching is like acting, but with less pay. I relied heavily on my acting skills during seventh period every day, more than in any...
Moving Shadow – By Blaze Minevski
Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska
Chona’s Chocho and Damjan Dabiziv are sitting under the withered plum tree on the boundary. The boundary divides them...
Turkish Night – By Blaze Minevski
Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska
Every story can be told in such a way that it will become more beautiful, and...
Soil – By Blaze Minevski
Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska
My brother loved to eat soil, and I had to watch that he didn’t: do not let...
Sunday Brunch with the World Maker- By Stefan Stenudd
(Below is a chapter from Sunday Brunch with the World Maker)
Elusive Life
I wouldn’t mind at all listening to some of Cael’s love stories, but I...
My Sister’s Troubles – By Robert Wexelblatt
Jason looks like a little fascist in his Cub Scout uniform. Another battle I lost, though I didn’t put up much of a fight. ...
This is Nothing – By Blaze Minevski
Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska
Now I know; Then, I didn’t know what I was.
I remember that a woman’s two year old...
The Virgin – By Blaze Minevski
Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska
Everything was prepared for my disgrace; they only waited for the monk to lie on his back under the...
The Last Matinee – By James Gering
Davey lay on the road under the lights, green, orange, red, green, orange, his cheek on the grittyasphalt, his limbs hinged at weird angles....
