Ed Hopper Train Painting

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For Mommy, who is always crying

By Francine Witte

in her bedroom like a secret, only we can hear it through the door. My big brother, Lou, took off with Ernesto, the boy with the neck tattoo of skull and bones, who picks up my brother in his Cadillac car, and they both will be gone for a week. I scatter the little brothers…

Flash Perspectives with Sian Griffiths

By Fractured Lit

What are your favorite things to write about? Those topics or items you can’t stop thinking about! Hmmm. Tough question. Animals, musicians, and skaters tend to show up pretty often. I suspect all three get at some kind of expression that’s external to words and rooted in bodies. It’s funny though—there are the things you…


By Sarah Freligh

Kat goes missing again, but not really. She’s where she usually is—passed out, pants on backward, in the Wawa parking lot. Because this is her third or fourth offense, the dean of students summons her parents who drive eight hours through a freak April snowstorm. This is how much they love her, this is how…


By Blake L. Bell

Walls Her nest is too tall by the time Molly realizes she can’t climb in. “I left my tools inside. Should I stop?” She asks her husband, who looks at the wall so hard the plaster cracks. “Put some of those plaster shards around the outside, honey? Like a fence, you know?” Molly asks. “Yes,…

Millennial Pink Bread

By Meagan Cass

As if covered in invisible glaze, her bread bakes pink. She buys new flour, new yeast, sends it into the oven a butter yellow moon. Still it comes out pink, a darker shade each time.   “It must be the water here. We’ll get filtered; don’t eat it,” her husband instructs, disappears back into his…

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