Stories

Golden lights in the sky, acoustic guitar, brick patio at a stranger’s house. When I met you, I understood why people write poetry.

Bryn Yoder works odd jobs while waiting for a long-lost Nigerian relative to pass and bestow his fortune upon her. Fingers crossed.

There are no treasures here. Everything is mildewed, cracked, torn, incomplete, forlorn.

He moves from room to room trying not to remember.

Thomas Cochran lives in rural Arkansas.

“You think he should have asked for my hand in marriage or something?”

“No,” his father says, “but I would have liked to give my blessing.”

CB McCall is an obvious pseudonym.

I was a teenage minimalist guilty of photos in my closet box. Please don’t say anything about the postcard collection either.

Katherine DeCoste (@katydecoste) is a writer who chronically forgets about her tea.

Day 47: Record rainfall continues. Waterfall now spewing smoke. Trees consuming carpark.

Locals concerned. Flora and fauna less so.

Cathal Gunning is a writer and poet whose work has appeared in (string of reputable locales)

I asked you if it was true and measured your silence, the weight of it. When you looked away, I wondered if I would ever feel light again.

Mário de Seabra Coelho (@MSeabraCoelho) has been published in a few places but doesn’t know why.

Family gone, he lives in a van by the pier. With gnarled fingers he baits kids’ hooks and untangles their lines, fishing for memories.

Kim Favors writes from California’s coast.

“Was I ever really human?” I asked.
Dimitri frowned. “With all you’ve achieved…does it really matter?”
I whispered: “It matters to him.”

Kelsey Yandura (@kelseyyan) really enjoys picnics but thinks potato salad is weird. Also, really into fantasy, sci-fi, empathy, and whiskey.

His breath puffs out in white clouds. The path ahead stretches into the darkness. Mayhap it wouldn’t hurt to lay down for a while.

W. B. Biggs is a writer, a teacher, and an aspiring wizard.

When I awoke I knew my sister Meredith had left. Because it was the cold that woke me up, you see. My mother had turned the heat back off.

Scott Harris (@ScottHarrisMMA) is a freelance writer based near Washington, DC.