• 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…

  • The Watchers by Melissa Jornd

    We watch you, sneaking through the alleys. You blend into the shadows with a combination of charms and carefulness. The secrets aren’t meant for you. Your desire and curiosity woke us from our semi-slumber before you came. We watched you hone your skills, pursuing General Knowledge, then Advanced Magic & Rhetoric, then Masters of Sorcery.…

  • Body/Fear by Lorhenz Lacsa

    The cold cradled the skin of my ribs as I sat there. The precision in the airis surgical—hair strands felt,every inch wet from sweat.How was I humanwhen all I felt was industrial?How is it a heart when it’s a whirring gear that drags,and drags, and drags?My father’s rusts never leftmy blood; I wish I couldregulate…

  • Analyzing the Symbolism of Light and Darkness in The Others by Savannah Schmidt

    The Others (2001) is a gothic psychological thriller that explores concepts of truth, deception, and what secrets lie beyond the ring of light we cast around ourselves. Chile-born Alejandro Amenábar wrote, directed, and scored the film, which stars Nicole Kidman, Christopher Eccleston, and Elaine Cassidy. By analyzing the movie’s lighting style, cinematic techniques, and costume…

  • The Many Temptations of Owen Jenks by John Timm

    The crime occurred in mid-summer when most of the surrounding neighbours had fled to the shore, or an upstate lake in the mountains, or even to the cooler latitudes of Europe. The house, among all the other houses in that venerable neighborhood, was not the most opulent, yet, if only for its sheer size and…

  • Prisoner of the Bell Tower by Jaron Weidner

    That familiar melody reverberated in my head. Each clanging note echoed in my ears, bringing me back from darkness. Tong! Tong! Ting! The ringing tones could only be the sound of the church bells. Ting! Ting! Tong! I remembered hearing them before, but what was the song? I heard it so many times I could…

  • Night Market by Martha Hipley

    I never text Ale because I never know where he is. It’s easier to wait and respond to his messages when he’s in town and calls me to do something. Ale chose the most adventurous path for someone with our education — working in cybersecurity for private clients — while I entrenched myself in the…

  • Forks and Knives by Amanda Draznin

    My craft is forks and knives. The art of the butcher:  The blade is part of you now. Handle smoothed by years of heat and blood, the steel kissed dull and re-sharpened a thousand times. The same weight as your hands. You learn the body by breaking it. From the feel of the tendon under…

  • Mary by Rhonda Rosenheck

    (a pantoum) Mary dug through her sundae, unearthing sweet bits,blind to oblique police-woman glances. Indifferent— archeological zeal? Blood, where her right hand rakedher captor’s corpse.Blind to oblique police-woman glances. Indifferent to fluid crusting red to brown to black, fromher captor’s corpse,drying, as she slaked her thirst and ate her first meal.Fluid, crusting red to brown…

  • The Hole in My Head by Nicky O’Connell

    There’s a grave in my pocket, a hole in my headPocket buries dreams, pride, and trust—While the hole swallows what cannot be named. I reach to remember—but then I forgetTrying triggers the shifting of colours,Spinning wheel—blurring, obscuring— What I saw, breathed, bled into the soil.It strikes between the lungs— Crimson rings my eyes—then burgundydrags mars…