Stories from
January, 2011

Mom had a jigsaw puzzle made from a happy family photo. But the kids said they didn’t have enough time to put all the pieces back together.

Ronnie Sirmans writes even shorter stories: headlines.

He made a gun with his fingers and put it to the dog’s head. When Mother came in she saw him laughing, and rejoiced.

Tim Terhaar sometimes performs for animals who fail to interpret his gestures.

He parks his car at her dad’s house. Mascara running down her cheeks, she digs her nails into his thighs and begs him to drive on.

Nikhil Rajagopalan is an owl, not a lark.

She wants her diary buried with her and it is, after he has read it. His sons puzzle at his sudden coldness, the way he studies their faces.

Dennis Y. Ginoza is an MFA candidate at Pacific University. He lives on the Kitsap Peninsula.

Since the day the sun went dark, Eli had turned on his old radio twice a day and hoped. Today it finally spoke, and it spoke only his name.

Ian Rose writes short fiction, but not usually this short. He lives in Portland, OR.

She set the laser gun to stun. By the time the guards came in, The President would be waking up with the gun in his hand and she’d be dead.

Tavia Lewis Castagnozzi is a girl, a wife, and a nerd.

When her father told her about the crash, she said nothing and went to her room. Her mother’s specter hovered by the window. “See?” It said.

Helina Martinez will never forgive her English teachers. Now that she knows proper grammatical structure, she can never finish her tw-

Under the stern watchful eye of her father she let her dry lips betray her now empty heart and muttered “I Do” to the man she didn’t love.

Vicky Hinault is an aspiring writer and existentialist.

High school girlfriend becoming small in the driveway. Dad’s foot on the pedal, wind picking up, trees going by all begin to blur.

Doug Bond, a writer, runner, singer of songs in the habit recently of sharing a variety of Amuzementz.

Response to the Death(s) at Reichenbach Falls: Holmes died today. I picked up his pipe and smoked it, but the flat still smells too clean.

K.N. Lang is a native Indiana writer hoping to get out of Indiana as soon as possible. She mostly writes satire.