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Newsletter:
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December, 2015Arrowhead
Tara Saunders If he had been further from giving up he would never have found it. Sinking to the ground, he curled his arms around his shins and hunched as close as possible into the slim protection of the rock. Only with his face pressed against it could he see that, hidden behind a spur of about knee-height, a narrow crack curved into the body of the stone. Warm air breathed from it, transforming the frozen mask of his face to a net of tingling pain... Read More... Howling On for More Jeffrey Somers Marks sat nursing a club soda at a booth by himself, studying Morris Gillan from a distance, who was drinking bourbon at the bar and seemed popular; the bartenders had a familiar manner with him and a heavy pour, and people walking in from outside kept pausing to call out his name, wave, pat him on the shoulder as they passed or shake his hand. Marks watched him drinking bourbon with an acute jealousy that made him stiff-armed and unhappy. The club soda burned his tongue and made him thirsty... Read More... South of Nepenthe Terry Sanville A cold Pacific fog rolled onshore, so thick it blanked out the road lines. At Nepenthe, Mike pulled the car into the empty parking lot. He got out and jogged in place, filling his lungs with wet air and sending alcohol-laden blood surging through his body. After several minutes, he climbed in and cinched his seatbelt tight. Sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose and he wiped it with the sleeve of his sport coat. “What was that all about?” Ashley asked... Read More... What You Wish For Brian Stumbaugh She pivots in front of him and hugs him full on, burying her head in his chest. He strokes her hair absently. Outside, it is dark and cold, a hint of wetness in the fall air. The traffic has died down, there are no more masked zombies or Disney princesses stalking outside. His watch alarm tweets midnight from inside the black bedroom doorway... Read More... |