Poetry
Elias Appleby
“Keeping the Faith,” “Vespers,” and “Ganymede”
You belay each old conception
Clean into the next room.
Meanwhile, I turn my heart over
To some crooked star. It burns
Clean into the next room.
Meanwhile, I turn my heart over
To some crooked star. It burns
Julie Benesh
“The Visitation,” “The Whys of Flight,” and “At the 24/7 Yoga Studio”
This morning the divine is wearing my Land’s End robe
and demanding chai. It seems unwise to deny her appetite,
given I don’t often wake up with her, but usually spring
from my bed like some ludicrous toy that hones
and demanding chai. It seems unwise to deny her appetite,
given I don’t often wake up with her, but usually spring
from my bed like some ludicrous toy that hones
Chris Kim
“Ripe Grape,” “an Idyll for,” and “Flora&Fauna (3026)”
when sweetness was simple
fruit split easily
their light filled my mouth.
the world was
clear juice, spring air
round and right as a grape.
fruit split easily
their light filled my mouth.
the world was
clear juice, spring air
round and right as a grape.
Andrea Vlahovich
“I Gave Him Water,” “Your Photo,” and “The Saddle”
I was sweating
through the dress
I had picked for someone else.
The club was closing.
through the dress
I had picked for someone else.
The club was closing.
Marie Chen
“Winter solstice,” “A Cry,” and “Should I Drop my Phone in this Pond”
Particularly at this time
I like to look out of the window
Tree branches cutting the picture into pieces
Hanging wires crisscrossing from the poles
The garage roof with its wall block the sight below
I like to look out of the window
Tree branches cutting the picture into pieces
Hanging wires crisscrossing from the poles
The garage roof with its wall block the sight below
Alexandra Grant
“The Gala,” “Bleak,” and “Abject Fear”
Wake Up!
Wake up, Celi!
No, not yet, Cinth
I am far too cold
I need a long shower
I feel like mold
Wake up, Celi!
No, not yet, Cinth
I am far too cold
I need a long shower
I feel like mold
Short Story
Tati Odintsova
Nevermore
Dear,
Do you remember the story I told you about that extraordinary girl I once mentioned? I’ve learnt something more about her and simply must tell you.
She was born into an ordinary family. Everything around her was simple — a kind father, a gentle mother, a small room in a small flat filled with books. She wasn’t beautiful, only quietly remarkable
Do you remember the story I told you about that extraordinary girl I once mentioned? I’ve learnt something more about her and simply must tell you.
She was born into an ordinary family. Everything around her was simple — a kind father, a gentle mother, a small room in a small flat filled with books. She wasn’t beautiful, only quietly remarkable
Jeffrey Buller
A Theory of Kindness
Maya almost missed the turn.
The GPS told her, in a voice that sounded both apologetic and bored, to take the next right. Only there was no next right, just a paved shoulder and a strip of sand where grass tried to grow and failed. The sign itself appeared at the last moment, a rectangle of worn blue metal almost the same color as the January sky.
The GPS told her, in a voice that sounded both apologetic and bored, to take the next right. Only there was no next right, just a paved shoulder and a strip of sand where grass tried to grow and failed. The sign itself appeared at the last moment, a rectangle of worn blue metal almost the same color as the January sky.
Daniel Eramian
Original Story
The Petrov’s are a married couple who built a biotech company in Boston. The CEO, Dimitry Petrov, 45, a doctor, was born into poverty in Russia. His wife Anastasia Shevchenco, 39, is Ukrainian and considered a genius in math. She is heavily involved in AI research. She is also a vocal leader in the global efforts to convince U.S. and foreign governments
Joanna Urban
In Silhouette
On the cobblestone street in De Wallen, Alexis stands beside her friend Hannah and the two men who’ve just bought them a round of drinks. The glare of the streetlamps brightens the men’s faces: Greg and Dustin, American finance professionals visiting their company’s Dutch office. Although they’ve only been acquainted for an hour, the four of them have shared enough travel anecdotes
Everett Roberts
Clean Bones
The relief I felt at my father’s funeral was something the old timers had told me to look forward to. Savor it, they’d said. It’s the end of the beginning.
I was sad, of course. But the relief was stronger.
My mother’s funeral, a year prior, had been the beginning. There was much to do, and my two siblings and I did our duty to our mother.
I was sad, of course. But the relief was stronger.
My mother’s funeral, a year prior, had been the beginning. There was much to do, and my two siblings and I did our duty to our mother.
James Anderson
The Hospital Tree
Frank never minded the small things, and as the squeak from the cartwheels bounced off the naked, white walls, he didn’t mind that either.
The hall was dark except the faint glows of the half-lit fluorescent lights that shone on the linoleum tiled floors. The halls themselves weren’t too long, but long enough for Frank’s left knee to start acting up again.
The hall was dark except the faint glows of the half-lit fluorescent lights that shone on the linoleum tiled floors. The halls themselves weren’t too long, but long enough for Frank’s left knee to start acting up again.
Gloria Buckley
The Lilac Thief Legacy
We would walk on the white beach of Marco Island with stale bread wrapped in a recycled red-and-blue polka-dot bread bag. We tossed hardened crumbs while droves of seagulls descended into my mother’s hands peeling shrills of joy. “Jennifer, get a picture of these maniacs!” My mother would laugh with complete abandonment. She would be encircled like a Hitchcock movie with seagulls eating right from her hands.
Long Short Story
Michel Sabbagh
Risk Management
“Buy the dip! Buy the dip! Buy the dip! Buy the dip!”
With steepled fingers and crossed legs, Charlis Yano beheld the gaggle of coveralls-wearing fishers slamming their fists onto desktops while chanting the very words one latched onto whenever the Halifax Stock Exchange found itself in a tug of war between red and green digits. On the one hand, turning challenges into opportunities could pay off further down the line.
On the other hand. Or rather, on the other side of the room…
With steepled fingers and crossed legs, Charlis Yano beheld the gaggle of coveralls-wearing fishers slamming their fists onto desktops while chanting the very words one latched onto whenever the Halifax Stock Exchange found itself in a tug of war between red and green digits. On the one hand, turning challenges into opportunities could pay off further down the line.
On the other hand. Or rather, on the other side of the room…
Art
Marianne Dalton
Pondering Eden
Light, shadow, and sometimes color are used to layer dozens of carefully edited images together, which echoes an altered reality of both truth and illusion. Each newly created configuration becomes much like a shadow box of my most cherished treasures, symbolizing my desire to protect the natural world I so revere.
Creative Nonfiction
Katie Seigenthaler
Driving Lessons
My mother does not approve of off-color language. But she is going to tell the story, the whole story and nothing but the story, even if she must reference her own hind parts.
“Have I told you about Mr. Warble? George Warble?” she asks my sister and me. We are on a conference line. She has called this meeting, not a good sign.
“Have I told you about Mr. Warble? George Warble?” she asks my sister and me. We are on a conference line. She has called this meeting, not a good sign.
Vincent Casaregola
Sweatshops and Factory Tours
I was standing in a line that stretched out the door and down the sidewalk as we gathered to clock in. It was only 6:15 a.m., but already it was over eighty degrees. I could see sweat stains beginning to form on the shirt backs of the few men directly before me in line. Ahead lay nine and a half hours upstairs, on the second floor of the old factory building
Carsten ten Brink
The Fifth Encore
I’ve been to New Guinea five times, and in 2025 was looking forward to my sixth visit to explore the world’s second-largest island – this time to venture deep into the remote, swampy terrain of the Kombai. A unique expedition, to participate in a sago palm grub festival. There’d be dancing, and chanting, and I’d probably make a fool of myself trying to mimic their rhythms.
Maggi Quadrini
My Nonna’s Kitchen
My Nonna’s kitchen was a symphony of aromas. For my Italian grandmother, cooking was her love language. The air was always thick with the scent of olive oil, garlic, and her signature homemade tomato sauce (sugo). Her dishes nourished us and always left us wanting more. The lingering taste of only the freshest homemade ingredients was part of her signature style in the kitchen.