The Art of Preserving by Martha Lane
Not a single islander outside the family had ever seen the fossils. Forty-eight of them, perfectly preserved in their meandering parade. There had never been a larger collection reported.
The Ruy by Richard Garcka
Anita stirred her morning coffee and imagined a Sargasso swirl of letters and numbers, tumbling, gyrating. As the rotation slowed, they conjoined, drifting up from the surface: e4; bg7; g6; nc6. She shaped the display into a merry-go-round and began mentally ordering the sequences, formulating, composing.
Monsters Don’t Feel Heat by SJ Walker
When our order was announced, I felt a huge sense of relief. Wasting no time, Hank grabbed my arm and pulled me with him to the counter. With our coffees and my donut in a brown paper bag, we exited the shop hastily. In the parking lot, we almost ran to our car. The woman…
You, Me, Them, It by Mark Barlex
All dogs are descended from wolves. Some more recently than others. The little blue handbook given to us with Sadie at the animal sanctuary said, Husky-German Shepherd Cross. The young man who walked her out to the car said, “Definitely wolf,” and smiled and laughed.
Headline by Robb Sheppard
10.36pm. They’re not just late now; they’re Amy Winehouse late. The blips and wub-wubs of the Never Gonna Give You Up cover version are barely audible over the audience’s detached impatience and theatrical sighs. The song’s ironic. I think. I hope. The crowd, however, are being more vocal at this one moment than during the…
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BANDIT FICTION 