S.A. Sabo Muri did not deserve to know. No one did. I would not even leave a note behind, I would just pack my things and go. We were never really friends anyway and though we shared many nights, there was a space between us that only the warmth of a friend could fill. I think he knew this.       Over our first year in Bosso I had gradually lost the will to function. Going to lectures had become a chore and Geology, a course I was very excited about, had become a drudge. I had failed enough courses to … Continue reading DEPARTURE

by Dean Jollay Caroline wiggles her toes, trying to restore circulation to feet numbed by spiked heels, feet which, left on their own, would descend from the stage, walk out the front door, and never look back. But escape is out of the question. Her father cups his hand on her elbow and whispers, “Here we go, honey.” The announcer calls, “Miss Caroline Muchalsky escorted by her father, Robert.” A recording of “The Way You Look Tonight” plays on the auditorium’s sound system. The CD skips and crackles. Caroline dons the smile she’s been crafting. Polite applause skitters across the … Continue reading DEBUTANTE

by Alexander Feinstein             It was all on account of a bird that Harry Jeter lost his job.  When this bird was added to some government list that would have it protected, Harry and his fellow loggers of Sugar Home were forced to put up a fight, but in the end their legal efforts were no match for an endangered species.  The mill was shut, finally, and the gates locked, after a judge ruled that over a million acres of forest in which this bird was said to dwell were off-limits now to the metal teeth of the chainsaw.  Critical … Continue reading CRITICAL HABITAT

by Jon Sindell Dad’s eightieth birthday was a costume party. I was Maria Von Trapp, my sister hid her annoyance behind Jackie O shades, and Dad’s stooped wife, April, wore a burnished–orange sari and a third eye. Dad was Ghandi, and it wasn’t a stretch. His limbs were sticks, for he had cut down to just one meal a day since leaving the university three years before; his head was naturally egg–shaped and bald; his incisive eyes twinkled behind round wire–frames; and his chest showed snowy through his … uh … “Dhoti, daughter.” I knew it, and Frannie knew it, … Continue reading DHOTI

by James P. Hanley Joe recognized only two seasons: baseball season and the rest of the year. In winter, he’d skim through football and basketball scores to the page of roster additions to the Double A farm team based in the neighboring town, looking forward to his job selling beer at the stadium. “Shit,” Joe said when his ‘84 Ford wouldn’t start. This late-June Saturday was a big selling day for beer vendors; the local brewery and downtown bars sponsored Brew Game, offering lager at half-price. The souvenir sellers complained that fewer children showed up but Joe sold “a series … Continue reading BEER-MAN

by Timothy Bearly “Under capitalism man exploits man. Under communism its just the opposite” -John Kenneth Galbraith         In a pond located on the estate of—well to do—biologist Sir Adams, there lived a small community of anthropomorphic froglings. This pond was certainly no puddle. It was a lavish freshwater paradise, with an extensive rock garden and a ten foot waterfall. The sheer size and superfluous amenities of this microcosmic utopia were greatly enjoyed by all of the inhabitants, who were oblivious to the existence of Sir Adams and the fact that everything was bought and paid for by him.           … Continue reading AMPHIBIOCRACY

by Shawn Caldwell Twelve year old Abraham Mullins opened his eyes and watched the rear wheel of his dirt bike nicknamed Old Huff, whirl in the clammy autumn breeze; the front wheel was warped and surrounded by wet leaves and dead grass. The bicycle’s frame was intact but without the front wheel Abe knew it was useless. A sharp pain slid down the young man’s back, and he sat puzzled, trying to determine what had happened.      He moaned, and his voice ebbed in the gloom of St. Thomas cemetery. Upon falling, his head fashioned a small groove into the … Continue reading ABE AND THE OLD MAN

by Stephen Wunderli Jesus has been to Idaho. Evan knows it. Dirt turned over with last years’ alfalfa roots, waiting out the frost; testify of His life when the spring comes. It’s not just sod, it’s the resurrection, green shoots, then clover looking bunches of life after a winter death. So Evan doesn’t work Sundays. The fields go unattended for the day, solitary in their rest, they take their sacrament of irrigation water at 10am—a full load if that son of a bitch Arlen isn’t siphoning off a little more than his rights allow, which he always does on Sunday … Continue reading A DOOR FOR JESUS SIR

by Ken Wheatcroft-​​Pardue In Memphis, just past dawn, a couple is walking on a downtown street looking as if they’re searching for something. You know what I mean. Their heads swivel here and there, as if perusing the dank sidewalk for something they’d lost long ago. The first thing you can’t help but notice is that the woman is shorter by about a foot than the man. But what you can’t divine at first glance is that the woman is also younger by ten years. Her name is Susan, and she is marching down the street like she’d steamroll over anybody who … Continue reading THE SOJOURNERS

by Deckard Croix The Plebeian beside me gave a look I could not interpret. His gray hair reflected the too-​​bright light, his plain white shirt reminding me of hospitals and childhood rambles after Sunday school, cookouts in the Irish-​​green countryside; impossibly green, impossibly white. He gave me the glance again, this time sidelong as if unsure of what I would do if I noticed. I didn’t let on that I’d noticed, but concentrated on catching the eye of the elusive bartender who finally beamed in my direction. “Your usual?” the bartender asked and I nodded the affirmative. I had never … Continue reading 14 SHOTS