Imaginings set loose.
By Jude-Marie Green One rocket lumbers along to the launchpad. Earth-bound and clumsy now, gorgeous with potential. It’s yours. You’re the last. You should be proud of that.
by Betsy James
Your two-penny face,
bright as your father's,
by Shveta Thakrar
So red this rose
Brambles burst from my mouth
(Stammers strangled into sterile silence)
by Sean Monaghan Gemma felt the pain right away. She sighed, stretching, angling her limbs and hips, trying to find a more comfortable position. She blinked, looking at the Arhend side table strewn with folders.
by WC Roberts
Striding tall on spider legs it scans the regolith
the ping of refined metal set off
antenna disk cocked upward
by Nancy Fulda The vase cracks against the hardened floor of our street-house, splitting into a dozen pieces. Shards fly everywhere – under the workbench, across the floor, even beneath the gears of the big mechanical clock that Grandfather brought down the hill this morning. Everyone in the room freezes.
by Joshua Shaw Midway through her love story, in which we are slow dancing atop a creaky fire escape, a boozy swooning to the snow’s pitter-patter as I say I love you I love you for the first time, I interrupt Eleanor to point out that if she loved me she would stop unscrewing my [...]
By Jeff Pfaller Dane peeled back the chain-link fence so Riley wouldn’t catch her curtain of hair as she ducked through. One more glance at the sliver of road between buildings, really just piles of stone instead of anything functional. No one drove on the Upper Roads this time of night. Driving a car meant [...]
By Anne Carly Abad Every cell in the bud’s body vibrated to the girl’s voice. “Fern, cattail, lily, sedge, violet, anemone,” she imparted her knowledge of the wetlands. They were all distinct, and the bud saw them as the girl did: the fiddleheads that characterized ferns, the creamy clusters of meadowsweet, the heart-shaped leaves of [...]
By Zack Wentz I know the sound of fingers being busted under a boot well. I’ve busted so many. But these boots are not mine. These boots belong to the man holding the Doctor’s Drive, standing on my fingers. So close. So close, we are in this way together touching. My boots are massive [...]