And the Editors’ Choice Is… “Napping” by Fred Vogel Nice work, Fred. Featured Stories The following stories made the short list and have been put into our Featured Stories category. They are listed in no particular order. “Second Meetings” by Alexander Pyles “Revenge” by Simon Hole “Ten to Thirteen” by Becca Challman “Time We Moved…
Writing Contest - Issue 22
Mercy Killing
By Jack Larkham
“I’m looking for a guy,” I say. She’s got her scrawny leg wedged in the door. Pockmarks all over her sunken face. “Aren’t we all,” she cackles. She’s got three teeth, tops. “Billy,” I say, showing her the photo. She shakes her head. She’s Billy’s wife, but looks more like his gran. “His car’s out…
Love and Duty
By Dianne Hendricks
“How long ’til the coroner gets here?” I asked the two uniformed men dispatched by the 911 operator. “Coroner don’t work holidays, Ma’am,” said the taller one. “You touch anything?” “Of course. Wouldn’t you touch your son, officer?” “Looks like he was cookin’. Any mention of suicide?” asked the secondary, consulting his clipboard. “He mentioned…
Napping
By Fred Vogel
When she walked into the den, he was on the beige tweed couch with his hands folded neatly across his stomach, enjoying his daily nap. A book of Raymond Carver short stories was lying open on the round marble table. He couldn’t read for more than twenty minutes at a time these days without dozing…
Teacher’s Pet
By Mary Claire B. Garcia
Every day, he’d be in front. He never uttered a word. He’d just listen. But despite being voiceless, Teacher never got tired of him. Teacher understood him. Teacher liked him despite his withdrawn nature. The other kids didn’t like him. They found him too quiet and too boring. He was fine with that. All he…
When I Come Home
By Josh Mckenna
He would kneel in the sand. Slowly, his shadow would shrink inwards. The desert heaved. The ascending sun warmed the peaks of the hills of sand. The man walked over them as they shifted and ebbed towards a distant shore. “When I come home—” he said. His dry throat caught on the wind. The amber…
The Recipe Club
By Angie Brocker
Digging the hole deeper than necessary, I still had no regrets about volunteering to bury the body. Smaller-framed females are always appreciated—this one was tiny but strong. Although I was exhausted from a difficult catch, every ounce of my body felt rejuvenated with each shovel full of fresh, cool dirt. My husband should have known his…