February 2025

Issue 92

February 2025

Issue 92

Photo by Mykola Velychko at Adobe Stock
Photo by Mykola Velychko at Adobe Stock

Poetry


Featured image for ““Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404””

Ray Malone

“Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404”

no music, only the daylight, the green
of the trees growing, so fresh and bright,
imagine a leaf, a single one of them
held to your cheek, in its chill,
its refusal of heat, this early in the year,
the stars so far from here, the birds
in their lightness going about their business
Poetry
Featured image for ““What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head””

Penny Jackson

“What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head”

Discarded on the train tracks,
a crushed bag of potato chips,
bright red label glaring.
Two bus drivers linger
by their idling vehicles—
one bends to his lighter,
the wreath of smoke
drifting briefly
Poetry
Featured image for ““A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?””

Jerrice J. Baptiste

“A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?”

Evelyn’s caramel colored
fingertips rub center of an orchid.
Soft saturated purple petals

awaken her eyes, like discovering
carving of ancient writings.
The Nile River on cave walls.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy””

Julie Benesh

“Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy”

Are you listening? I have access
to all the words, at least

hypothetically. Language, emotion,
cognition commingles in combinations

infinite, experiments replicable,
but only barely, in theory
Poetry
Featured image for ““Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End””

Alexander Etheridge

“Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End”

Walking at dusk again,
and stray lines tap
on my mind’s window,
looking for a poem.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains””

Jodi Morton

“Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains”

The moment we turn the corner,
a cold front hits,
a carpet of chilly air
unrolled at our feet.
I pull my cardigan tightly
around my chest, hold it closed.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language””

Stephanie Trenchard

“Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language”

The setting:
Notes in a measure of motion
with dissonant zinc-white daylight splashing
and dancing upon the path
as the horizon softens to a bluer hue, and vanishes
Poetry
Featured image for ““No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth””

Jonathan Fletcher

“No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth”

Where are you? the seven-year-old in me
asks as I watch the screen fill
with frenetic red and orange,
billowing gray, curtained black.
Storm, come and still the winds.
Jean Gray, divert the water.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404””

Ray Malone

“Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404”

no music, only the daylight, the green
of the trees growing, so fresh and bright,
imagine a leaf, a single one of them
held to your cheek, in its chill,
its refusal of heat, this early in the year,
the stars so far from here, the birds
in their lightness going about their business
Poetry
Featured image for ““What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head””

Penny Jackson

“What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head”

Discarded on the train tracks,
a crushed bag of potato chips,
bright red label glaring.
Two bus drivers linger
by their idling vehicles—
one bends to his lighter,
the wreath of smoke
drifting briefly
Poetry
Featured image for ““A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?””

Jerrice J. Baptiste

“A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?”

Evelyn’s caramel colored
fingertips rub center of an orchid.
Soft saturated purple petals

awaken her eyes, like discovering
carving of ancient writings.
The Nile River on cave walls.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy””

Julie Benesh

“Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy”

Are you listening? I have access
to all the words, at least

hypothetically. Language, emotion,
cognition commingles in combinations

infinite, experiments replicable,
but only barely, in theory
Poetry
Featured image for ““Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End””

Alexander Etheridge

“Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End”

Walking at dusk again,
and stray lines tap
on my mind’s window,
looking for a poem.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains””

Jodi Morton

“Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains”

The moment we turn the corner,
a cold front hits,
a carpet of chilly air
unrolled at our feet.
I pull my cardigan tightly
around my chest, hold it closed.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language””

Stephanie Trenchard

“Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language”

The setting:
Notes in a measure of motion
with dissonant zinc-white daylight splashing
and dancing upon the path
as the horizon softens to a bluer hue, and vanishes
Poetry
Featured image for ““No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth””

Jonathan Fletcher

“No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth”

Where are you? the seven-year-old in me
asks as I watch the screen fill
with frenetic red and orange,
billowing gray, curtained black.
Storm, come and still the winds.
Jean Gray, divert the water.
Poetry

Poetry


Featured image for ““Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404””

Ray Malone

“Étude 128,” “Étude 143,” and “Interval 404”

no music, only the daylight, the green
of the trees growing, so fresh and bright,
imagine a leaf, a single one of them
held to your cheek, in its chill,
its refusal of heat, this early in the year,
the stars so far from here, the birds
in their lightness going about their business
Poetry
Featured image for ““What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head””

Penny Jackson

“What Remains” and “A Hole In Her Head”

Discarded on the train tracks,
a crushed bag of potato chips,
bright red label glaring.
Two bus drivers linger
by their idling vehicles—
one bends to his lighter,
the wreath of smoke
drifting briefly
Poetry
Featured image for ““A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?””

Jerrice J. Baptiste

“A Purple Orchid,” “Poem for The Pink Petal Dragons,” and “At The Cusp of Autumn: Where Do Geese & Husband Go?”

Evelyn’s caramel colored
fingertips rub center of an orchid.
Soft saturated purple petals

awaken her eyes, like discovering
carving of ancient writings.
The Nile River on cave walls.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy””

Julie Benesh

“Not Drowning,” “Solstice,” and “Magi-Conomy”

Are you listening? I have access
to all the words, at least

hypothetically. Language, emotion,
cognition commingles in combinations

infinite, experiments replicable,
but only barely, in theory
Poetry
Featured image for ““Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End””

Alexander Etheridge

“Like Lost Dogs,” “Solitude at Midnight,” and “Eden’s End”

Walking at dusk again,
and stray lines tap
on my mind’s window,
looking for a poem.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains””

Jodi Morton

“Spring is a Good Season for Reconciliation,” “Where Were You,” and “The Thing That Remains”

The moment we turn the corner,
a cold front hits,
a carpet of chilly air
unrolled at our feet.
I pull my cardigan tightly
around my chest, hold it closed.
Poetry
Featured image for ““Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language””

Stephanie Trenchard

“Summer Music, For my Father,” “Caught,” and “Color as Language”

The setting:
Notes in a measure of motion
with dissonant zinc-white daylight splashing
and dancing upon the path
as the horizon softens to a bluer hue, and vanishes
Poetry
Featured image for ““No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth””

Jonathan Fletcher

“No X-Men in LA” and “Missing Rehoboth”

Where are you? the seven-year-old in me
asks as I watch the screen fill
with frenetic red and orange,
billowing gray, curtained black.
Storm, come and still the winds.
Jean Gray, divert the water.
Poetry

Short Story

New Fiction

Featured image for “The Amazing Merletti”

M.L. Lyons

The Amazing Merletti

Marco Merletti came from a long line of magicians. His mother Talma was a noted mentalist from the old country, capable of convincing the Tuscan villagers of her inscrutable powers of clairvoyance. The moment her searing brown eyes alighted on a young woman’s tearful face or an old man’s trembling white handkerchief, she knew who had been the mistress of whom, who was to give birth and why and countless other secrets the country people thought were their own.
Short Story
Featured image for “Sophia”

Andrew Plimpton

Sophia

Sophia built her first shrine when she was six years old. She took a fragment of a fallen bird’s nest, decorated it with dandelions and acorn shells, and surrounded it with a circle of stones on the surface of a tree stump in her backyard. The tree had come down very recently, and she’d been staring out the window at the place where it used to be. No one had taught her to build this shrine; she had no word for what she was doing.
Short Story
Featured image for “Into the Flooded Field”

Brandon Daily

Into the Flooded Field

The water began to rise from the soil three days after the storm passed. By then, the rest of the valley and the neighboring town had become feverish again with the heat of early summer, and all remnants of rain had completely disappeared. It was a thing of magic, the townspeople said when they finally drove the five miles into the lowlands of the valley to see it with their own eyes. Water seeping from the depths of the earth.
Short Story
Featured image for “Threadbare”

Dharmini Saravanan

Threadbare

Eileen can feel the heat on her neck and smell the group of sweaty teenagers sitting five seats ahead of her on the city bus. They speak in a lingo that mocks her thirty-six accumulated years of practicing proper grammar. One of them stands in the aisle with his legs spread out for balance and talks about escaping the matrix. His friend, wearing a gigantic hoodie, looks around the bus, glances at Eileen and then looks to the side as if to roll his eyes at his friend.
Short Story
Featured image for “Local Clown”

Kevin Yeoman

Local Clown

The one-way bus ticket eats up a big chunk of his earnings and leaves him with just enough cash for a quick fix when he gets home—something to take the edge off while he figures out what to do about his stolen car. His mind is clouded with these thoughts as he climbs on the idling coach under the cover of the late November afternoon gloom. The driver pays him no mind, but a pair of elderly women near the front make their displeasure known, clucking their tongues in unison as he shuffles past. He gets it.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Dream Netters”

Emily Larkin

The Dream Netters

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. It’s strange, I know. Mermaongs are supposed to be adventurous. We’re meant to love every part of the ocean—from its glittering surface to the rotting hull of a drowned ship, to the thrill of the Deep Dark, where the blind fish and the shadows with teeth live. There is always some measure of dark: the shadow of fish or sharks, a cloud passing overhead, the shape of something in the distance.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Amazing Merletti”

M.L. Lyons

The Amazing Merletti

Marco Merletti came from a long line of magicians. His mother Talma was a noted mentalist from the old country, capable of convincing the Tuscan villagers of her inscrutable powers of clairvoyance. The moment her searing brown eyes alighted on a young woman’s tearful face or an old man’s trembling white handkerchief, she knew who had been the mistress of whom, who was to give birth and why and countless other secrets the country people thought were their own.
Short Story
Featured image for “Sophia”

Andrew Plimpton

Sophia

Sophia built her first shrine when she was six years old. She took a fragment of a fallen bird’s nest, decorated it with dandelions and acorn shells, and surrounded it with a circle of stones on the surface of a tree stump in her backyard. The tree had come down very recently, and she’d been staring out the window at the place where it used to be. No one had taught her to build this shrine; she had no word for what she was doing.
Short Story
Featured image for “Into the Flooded Field”

Brandon Daily

Into the Flooded Field

The water began to rise from the soil three days after the storm passed. By then, the rest of the valley and the neighboring town had become feverish again with the heat of early summer, and all remnants of rain had completely disappeared. It was a thing of magic, the townspeople said when they finally drove the five miles into the lowlands of the valley to see it with their own eyes. Water seeping from the depths of the earth.
Short Story
Featured image for “Threadbare”

Dharmini Saravanan

Threadbare

Eileen can feel the heat on her neck and smell the group of sweaty teenagers sitting five seats ahead of her on the city bus. They speak in a lingo that mocks her thirty-six accumulated years of practicing proper grammar. One of them stands in the aisle with his legs spread out for balance and talks about escaping the matrix. His friend, wearing a gigantic hoodie, looks around the bus, glances at Eileen and then looks to the side as if to roll his eyes at his friend.
Short Story
Featured image for “Local Clown”

Kevin Yeoman

Local Clown

The one-way bus ticket eats up a big chunk of his earnings and leaves him with just enough cash for a quick fix when he gets home—something to take the edge off while he figures out what to do about his stolen car. His mind is clouded with these thoughts as he climbs on the idling coach under the cover of the late November afternoon gloom. The driver pays him no mind, but a pair of elderly women near the front make their displeasure known, clucking their tongues in unison as he shuffles past. He gets it.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Dream Netters”

Emily Larkin

The Dream Netters

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. It’s strange, I know. Mermaongs are supposed to be adventurous. We’re meant to love every part of the ocean—from its glittering surface to the rotting hull of a drowned ship, to the thrill of the Deep Dark, where the blind fish and the shadows with teeth live. There is always some measure of dark: the shadow of fish or sharks, a cloud passing overhead, the shape of something in the distance.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Amazing Merletti”

M.L. Lyons

The Amazing Merletti

Marco Merletti came from a long line of magicians. His mother Talma was a noted mentalist from the old country, capable of convincing the Tuscan villagers of her inscrutable powers of clairvoyance. The moment her searing brown eyes alighted on a young woman’s tearful face or an old man’s trembling white handkerchief, she knew who had been the mistress of whom, who was to give birth and why and countless other secrets the country people thought were their own.
Short Story
Featured image for “Sophia”

Andrew Plimpton

Sophia

Sophia built her first shrine when she was six years old. She took a fragment of a fallen bird’s nest, decorated it with dandelions and acorn shells, and surrounded it with a circle of stones on the surface of a tree stump in her backyard. The tree had come down very recently, and she’d been staring out the window at the place where it used to be. No one had taught her to build this shrine; she had no word for what she was doing.
Short Story
Featured image for “Into the Flooded Field”

Brandon Daily

Into the Flooded Field

The water began to rise from the soil three days after the storm passed. By then, the rest of the valley and the neighboring town had become feverish again with the heat of early summer, and all remnants of rain had completely disappeared. It was a thing of magic, the townspeople said when they finally drove the five miles into the lowlands of the valley to see it with their own eyes. Water seeping from the depths of the earth.
Short Story
Featured image for “Threadbare”

Dharmini Saravanan

Threadbare

Eileen can feel the heat on her neck and smell the group of sweaty teenagers sitting five seats ahead of her on the city bus. They speak in a lingo that mocks her thirty-six accumulated years of practicing proper grammar. One of them stands in the aisle with his legs spread out for balance and talks about escaping the matrix. His friend, wearing a gigantic hoodie, looks around the bus, glances at Eileen and then looks to the side as if to roll his eyes at his friend.
Short Story
Featured image for “Local Clown”

Kevin Yeoman

Local Clown

The one-way bus ticket eats up a big chunk of his earnings and leaves him with just enough cash for a quick fix when he gets home—something to take the edge off while he figures out what to do about his stolen car. His mind is clouded with these thoughts as he climbs on the idling coach under the cover of the late November afternoon gloom. The driver pays him no mind, but a pair of elderly women near the front make their displeasure known, clucking their tongues in unison as he shuffles past. He gets it.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Dream Netters”

Emily Larkin

The Dream Netters

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. It’s strange, I know. Mermaongs are supposed to be adventurous. We’re meant to love every part of the ocean—from its glittering surface to the rotting hull of a drowned ship, to the thrill of the Deep Dark, where the blind fish and the shadows with teeth live. There is always some measure of dark: the shadow of fish or sharks, a cloud passing overhead, the shape of something in the distance.
Short Story

Short Story


Featured image for “The Amazing Merletti”

M.L. Lyons

The Amazing Merletti

Marco Merletti came from a long line of magicians. His mother Talma was a noted mentalist from the old country, capable of convincing the Tuscan villagers of her inscrutable powers of clairvoyance. The moment her searing brown eyes alighted on a young woman’s tearful face or an old man’s trembling white handkerchief, she knew who had been the mistress of whom, who was to give birth and why and countless other secrets the country people thought were their own.
Short Story
Featured image for “Sophia”

Andrew Plimpton

Sophia

Sophia built her first shrine when she was six years old. She took a fragment of a fallen bird’s nest, decorated it with dandelions and acorn shells, and surrounded it with a circle of stones on the surface of a tree stump in her backyard. The tree had come down very recently, and she’d been staring out the window at the place where it used to be. No one had taught her to build this shrine; she had no word for what she was doing.
Short Story
Featured image for “Into the Flooded Field”

Brandon Daily

Into the Flooded Field

The water began to rise from the soil three days after the storm passed. By then, the rest of the valley and the neighboring town had become feverish again with the heat of early summer, and all remnants of rain had completely disappeared. It was a thing of magic, the townspeople said when they finally drove the five miles into the lowlands of the valley to see it with their own eyes. Water seeping from the depths of the earth.
Short Story
Featured image for “Threadbare”

Dharmini Saravanan

Threadbare

Eileen can feel the heat on her neck and smell the group of sweaty teenagers sitting five seats ahead of her on the city bus. They speak in a lingo that mocks her thirty-six accumulated years of practicing proper grammar. One of them stands in the aisle with his legs spread out for balance and talks about escaping the matrix. His friend, wearing a gigantic hoodie, looks around the bus, glances at Eileen and then looks to the side as if to roll his eyes at his friend.
Short Story
Featured image for “Local Clown”

Kevin Yeoman

Local Clown

The one-way bus ticket eats up a big chunk of his earnings and leaves him with just enough cash for a quick fix when he gets home—something to take the edge off while he figures out what to do about his stolen car. His mind is clouded with these thoughts as he climbs on the idling coach under the cover of the late November afternoon gloom. The driver pays him no mind, but a pair of elderly women near the front make their displeasure known, clucking their tongues in unison as he shuffles past. He gets it.
Short Story
Featured image for “The Dream Netters”

Emily Larkin

The Dream Netters

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. It’s strange, I know. Mermaongs are supposed to be adventurous. We’re meant to love every part of the ocean—from its glittering surface to the rotting hull of a drowned ship, to the thrill of the Deep Dark, where the blind fish and the shadows with teeth live. There is always some measure of dark: the shadow of fish or sharks, a cloud passing overhead, the shape of something in the distance.
Short Story

Long Short Story


Novel Chapter

Novel Chapters

Essay

Creative Nonfiction

Nonfiction