Category Archives: Fiction

I met Pammie one summer evening on the Carson’s grassy lawn. People were standing around holding plastic glasses of wine. The old house rose above the party, its grey heightened to blue in the dusky light. Edward and I had … Continue reading →

When they called him down there to the morgue to identify the body, he drove behind the wheel of his truck like some steady maniac on a long haul. The Ford 150 cried out for new shocks, but that hardly … Continue reading →

I get up everyday at six. I drag myself from bed, shower, make coffee, and then dress for work. I am always on the 8:15 train. I’ve never missed it and I’ve never been late, ever. [You probably think I’m … Continue reading →

Dear readers, Truth has a way of reverberating inside the human psyche in ways that few other things do.  It stays with us long after it first reveals itself and forces us to look at society and ourselves in ways … Continue reading →

Henry Borkowski strode quickly into the empty, sun-filled paddock and shot his one giraffe as it stood languidly under its tree. Thankfully no one saw him do it, the killing of this friendless giraffe.  Its body shuddered when the bullet … Continue reading →

Fetal position doesn’t work on the right or the left. On her back like a corpse doesn’t either. Lying on her stomach makes her nervous, as if her thoughts might smother her. Thoughts are wispy, scattered clouds. Laundry, the gas … Continue reading →

Tarleton perches on the exam table in a gown, her thighs pasted to the runner of waxy paper like she is her own favorite mayo and banana pregnancy sandwich. Hugging her stomach she wonders if her baby will like the … Continue reading →

C.G. went to the forest. She lied about going on a sleepover―at Eleanor’s, Ma, and found her parents’ trusting, Okay, Cee, maliciously benign. She slammed the front door, shouted an apology and left, to pedal furiously along the road winding … Continue reading →

The deserted farmhouse had been home to a family once, witness to their joys and sorrows, meals and squabbles. All had a place within the walls of this home. The walls were bare now, some riddled with holes from the … Continue reading →

Dear Readers, It was a great honor and a great time guest editing for Whistling Fire this month. My theme was steampunk. If you don’t know what that is, don’t worry, our first piece, “After Crystal City” by Andrea Myer, … Continue reading →