Stand
Creative Nonfiction by Kandi Maxwell I want to stand on my paddle board. Last year, I attached the seat, paddled my way across the smooth surface of the lake sitting kayak style. Gliding through the water in those early mornings brought tranquility as the sunlight twinkled across the lake. A warm, musty scent filled the…
Snacks. Boundaries. Low Expectations.
By Lynne Curry I love my shell. Not thick. Intentional. Others whisper, “How do you stay so calm?” “Easy. Stop expecting rescue. Reinforce the spine. Guard the soft spots.” “Sounds lonely.” “Lonely costs less than therapy.” Men test the perimeter. One taps and grins, checking for hollow spots. Another presses harder. Claims intimacy requires exposure.…
What the World Needs Now
By Chaz Osburn “Have we done it? Have we actually succeeded this time?” “Perhaps we need to go over the math once more.” “No, I’ve run the equation thirty-nine times. The numbers don’t lie.” “Think of the press coverage once word of this gets out.” “We’ll most likely win a Nobel Prize.” “It will…
Ticked
Creative Nonfiction by Karen Zey I study the form’s two check off options. Box 1: Married. Box 2: Single (includes both divorced and widowed). My chest tightens at the wrongness of this. I hate the word “widow.” But it is a label that suggests loss, loss of the beloved routines of a shared life. Not…
Thing in a Cage
By Sarah Oechsle So, I have this thing. A hot ball of plum-colored slime. It lives in a cage, in a box, on a shelf in my closet, but it still screams late at night. Other times, I can feel it sagging off my brain stem, compelling me to fulfill my body’s deepest—no—only desire. To…
Square Nails
By James C. Clar The hammer came down again in my uncle’s arthritic hand as he attempted to straighten another crooked nail. Each blow was tentative, a mere suggestion of force rather than the real thing. The sound was dull and patient in the half-dark of the barn. He had found a small tin bucket…
The Other Side of Perfect
By G.R. LeBlanc After weeks and countless hours, it’s complete—my current miniature project: a two-story dollhouse trimmed with blue shutters. Every piece has been meticulously crafted, glued, and painted, and in the bright yellow kitchen, nothing is out of place. I admire the pristine black-and-white checkered tiles, a stark contrast to my muddy-paw-print covered floors.…
What was Lost when our Love Died
By Toby Tucker Hecht The morning tangle of the duvet between both our legs. The oval depression in the sofa cushion where you used to sit. The coffee mug with a rim chip that cut your lip, but you wouldn’t throw out. The lineup of shirts in the closet, in different colors, all facing in…
Peeling Back
By Katelynn Humbles The first home I ever knew smelled of oranges and salt. My mother was a house of soft hands, of arms that wrapped around me like vines—steady, constant. She pressed cool palms to my forehead when I burned, shaped her love into something I could carry: peeled clementines, handed to me in…
Uncle Earl
A Memoir by Stephen Niedzwiecki We walked in hand-me-down suits through the parking lot. I stood below waist height to my father as he stopped and bent down before us to look us in the eye. “This might be a little scary,” he said. Hand in hand, he led us through the room full of…
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