Fiction

Category

He Was Beautiful by Ron Moore

When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.

Fiction: A Life Like This by Laura E. Smith

A new short story by Laura E. Smith

Must-read

Two Poems by Dianne L. Knox

Mow Me DownHe was mowing the ditch, not with a string cutterbut with a heavy moweras I walked by he felt he needed to...

A Simple Machine by Eric W. Schramm

A Simple MachineThe noose that was used to hang John Brown is allegedly in the permanent collection at the Massachusetts Historical Society. Frayed and wild...

Three Poems by Reginald Harris

Untitled: On the Bus (A) Black men (man) glance (s)at each other (me)then quickly look (s) away.A quick check (-ing out),a look to size (each...