Stars above Detroit – By Jonathan B. Ferrini

  It was a cold and snowy December when I was handed the address of a “crack house” in one of the deserted and boarded...

Drowning in the Red Sea – By Rebekah Ricksecker

   Marta Teaching is like acting, but with less pay. I relied heavily on my acting skills during seventh period every day, more than in any...

Moving Shadow – By Blaze Minevski

  Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska Chona’s Chocho and Damjan Dabiziv are sitting under the withered plum tree on the boundary. The boundary divides them...

Turkish Night – By Blaze Minevski

  Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska       Every story can be told in such a way that it will become more beautiful, and...

Soil – By Blaze Minevski

  Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska      My brother loved to eat soil, and I had to watch that he didn’t: do not let...

Sunday Brunch with the World Maker- By Stefan Stenudd

  (Below is a chapter from Sunday Brunch with the World Maker) Elusive Life I wouldn’t mind at all listening to some of Cael’s love stories, but I...

My Sister’s Troubles – By Robert Wexelblatt

  Jason looks like a little fascist in his Cub Scout uniform.  Another battle I lost, though I didn’t put up much of a fight. ...

This is Nothing – By Blaze Minevski

  Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska     Now I know; Then, I didn’t know what I was.   I remember that a woman’s two year old...

The Virgin – By Blaze Minevski

  Translated from Macedonian by Elizabeta Bakovska   Everything was prepared for my disgrace; they only waited for the monk to lie on his back under the...

The Last Matinee – By James Gering

  Davey lay on the road under the lights, green, orange, red, green, orange, his cheek on the grittyasphalt, his limbs hinged at weird angles....
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