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The Emerald Shore by Chris Browley
There was always something that washed up on the shore. Malcolm Hayes sprawled half-drowned under the relentless sun. Waves dragged his body towards the water, grinding him into the cold, grey sand. Even the crabs ignored him. Dozens of tiny legs pricked against his flesh as they walked over another piece of debris. Mud dripped…
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Wechselbalg by E.A. DePriest
The creature sitting across the table from me is wearing my brother’s face. It has a squat, childlike body, a sickly-sweet mask that attempts to beguile any who look upon it. I watch as it picks up the spoon, dips it into the bowl, brings it nearly empty to its lips, red and rubbery like…
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Salt in the Wound by Claire Sweetow
My mother died on a Wednesday night in February. I sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the pinpoints of salt dotted on the dark wood and pressed my hands down onto the granules, observing the particles that stuck versus the ones that simply made light impressions on my skin. The only sound I…
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The Conifers by Rhonda Rosenheck
(a villanelle) The conifers spoke to the deciduous treesDeep in the cool, ancient wood.“Wish,” they whispered, “they were a gentler species.” Honey locusts and maples nodded their leaves,Mulberries and oaks, as well, understood.The conifers spoke to the deciduous trees:“Shall nature stand by as they do as they please?”“We know,” wept the Willow sisters, both so…
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The Doom That Blew Into Gnarlywood by J.T. Trigonis
The tumbleweed appeared out of nowhere. It had been a typical summer night in central Jersey, humid with the weariness of clouds trying to hold onto the rain a little longer. A flash of lightning later, and there it was. No rain, just a bramble of knotted twigs. It didn’t tumble as one might expect;…
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Good Luck, Mr. Flowers by Jimmy Frohman
He delivered the flowers a whole hour early. Patty N. hadn’t even finished pulling up the shades on the Juniper Street Market windows when his purple delivery truck pulled up to the curb, Mr. Flowers Florists emblazoned on the side. Even though Easter was days away, the air was crisp enough to need a coat,…
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SCRATCH by John P. McEneny
The closet door was locked shut. For the first few hours, she kept expecting the door to open. Connolly Hall locked itself every night at ten. No one could remember when the rule had started. It was simply how things were done. Amy pounded the door with her fists and kicked at it the way…
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Sucker by Dante F. Baxter
I stood before the door to my apartment again, just staring at it. It had been months since I’d even considered looking through the little peephole, let alone opening the door and taking a walk outside. It wasn’t like I needed to leave after all; the world could come to me. Groceries could be delivered.…