THE OCEAN INDOORS by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam

Remember that time the ocean came in through my bedroom window? Remember that time I woke up choking on sea salt spray, my bed a boat on the sea that had replaced the stained gray carpet?


A Wednesday like any day: Up, coffee with a little something, comfortable yet professional, flat shoes. The news says a woman was raped behind a garbage bin; a man jumped off a bridge but failed to die; there is a low pressure system making the grey weather hang on interminably. Unlock the apartment door, 8F, […]

THE HOTEL by John Poch

He got out of his truck and composed himself. His new white shirt stuck to his lower back where he’d been sweating against the vinyl seat. She was in the hotel up there, and she might be looking down.


The 1970’s were full of firsts for many people. Richard Nixon became the first president to resign from office. Raul Castro became the first Latino to hold the office of Governor in the great State of Arizona.

FIVE STORIES by Karen Brennan

The coffin is grey with gold curlicues at the corners, at each of the four corners, although we only see two from where we are sitting with our mother.

CITIZEN by Tariq al Haydar

Enter the ministry through the main gate (not the women’s entrance), on Olaya Street: Memorize the number on your ID card (#1072049285). Vote in the municipal elections, , so that the world may see you and celebrate the act

RAINY RIVER by Eric Lloyd Blix

They park fifty feet from shore, Nichols and his daughter, despite her quiet protests.
“The river hasn’t changed,” he says, sipping Hamm’s, the last can of four he brought for the road. “It looks the god damn same.”

Lipochrome by Nathan Poole

It did not go away—as everyone said it would. At nine months Ida was diagnosed with an obscure disorder. It was thought to be caused by an infection in the eyes at birth…

FAILURE by Glen Pourciau

I’d been holed up with a new project, and it seemed time to get out and breathe some fresh air and talk to people, an outcome that the solitary nature of my work sometimes led me to desire…

STEPHANIE SAYS by Alain Douglas Park

A woman stands alone in the surf. She’s up to her mid-thighs in the water, warm Gulf of Mexico water, and she can feel the strong undertow of the sea. It pulls her legs and sucks the sand from under her feet. It’s tremendous—this undertow—a force of nature—powerful. But, she’s determined to stand in it. So, she does.

The Burning by Peace Adzo Medie

The potholes in the road were filled with muddy water because it had rained the night before. Some of the holes, jagged around the edges, were the size of mini craters and every time we reached one, we stomped our feet in it and sloshed the brown water on each other. We roared in excitement…

The Landlord by Peace Adzo Medie

Asanka,” sneered Emma’s landlord, his bony frame planted in front of the staircase that led to her apartment. It was dawn and she had just returned from walking with her friend, Martin, to the bus stop. He had tutored her throughout the night, in preparation for the entrance exam that she would take in a week’s time, and she had felt obligated to see him off afterward. But now as she stared into her landlord’s rheumy eyes, she wished she had stayed indoors.