Living people stand in for chess pieces during a game already in progress. There’s no sign of the previously captured players.
She stands over me, hands on hips, shouting. Or maybe she’s not shouting but it comes across with the intensity of a shout. It echoes other shouts I’ve heard before; my mother yelling at me when I was a child, my teacher angry at me for some misdemeanour. The passion of it is startling because it’s not about a personal grievance, it’s because I made too many posts on the school’s social media site at work this week. Apparently, I should have been more focused on other things in the library.
By Lynn Goodwin
“You’re just like your father,” spoken in a sing-song disdain is a refrain from my childhood. Auntie Deloris and Uncle Art confirmed it. And once when I was in my late teens, Art added, “It’s nothing to be proud of.” I couldn’t see how we looked alike, but I couldn’t see myself in the mirror either. I only saw a reflection. Continue reading →
By Eadbhard McGowan
It is a sign that autumn is close at hand, fast approaching and leading in a straight line to Samhain, when the crops and the grass stand in full splendour on the fields.Continue reading →
The bar has something of the 1920s about it. It’s fairly light, with warm-coloured décor. It’s also fairly quiet, at least at the moment, and the bartender has little to do. He seems to enjoy his role, though, as he plays up to the stereotypical image, dressed in fancy bartender clothes and idly cleaning a glass.Continue reading →
By Melissa Myers
He comes in every Wednesday at eight for dinner, and he always orders the same thing – filet mignon medium rare, asparagus tips, baked potato with extra butter and sour cream, and a green salad. I prepare it every week, but tonight will be the last time.Continue reading →
Grandma sent me a Trumpy Bear and I don’t care. I don’t even like him, don’t like his comb over, don’t like his fake everything. I already threw him in the trash. He’s over there in the corner, stuffed in the can, face down and big ass up, ready for the crusher at the dump. Continue reading →