Ed Hopper Train Painting

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Authentic, Real, and Good

By Jemimah Wei

The truth is I got hired for my looks and promoted for my flexible standards of truth and that is really all there is to say about it. Except the job was easy enough at first, standing by the door and chiming Irasshaimase! whenever anyone entered, even though it was really more like a roar,…

Waving Tassels

By David Morgan O'Connor
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Plan to Free  The dog ate the turkey. Then killed all the village swans, piled the white corpses at the front door, impossible to hide, a pyre to be paid for with exile. In the orange school bus, every morning and afternoon, no matter the snow or dust, we’d lower the windows and hang out…

One Long Sting

By Emma Stough

From the time I learn how to bleed I keep a scab in the fleshy inner curve of my ear. Small, coarse, red-brown. I tend to it like I should tend to myself. When I am lonely, or need something to ruin, I dig a fingernail into the cartilage, tear the scab. Little blood, bearable…

Recommended Reading: Ghost Stories

By K.B. Carle

This past weekend, I did a deep dive into flash ghost stories. I leaped into the realm of flash specters and those that haunt with an open mind, not in search of something clearly defined as I did when researching flash Fairy tales and Fables. I wanted to find stories reminiscent of Casper, the Friendly…

the sea was there

By Alvin Park

I don’t know where Mom learned to drive. I don’t know where she learned to hold the wheel firm or belt my chest with her right arm whenever we stopped suddenly for the stray deer lying in the road, still half-breathing, or the broken homes that spilled their bricks onto the whitened dirt. Last night,…

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