Imaginings set loose.
The Past, Present, and Future of Ice Fishing
by Clay Space - The wind on the frozen ice bit through the hides he wore for protection, but he had long ago learned to forget about the bitter cold.
A Superlative For Goodbye
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.
Changing Woman Gives Birth to Coyote
by Betsy James
Your two-penny face,
bright as your father's,
wrinkled tight.
जंगली गुलाब/Jangli Gulaab (Briar Rose)
by Shveta Thakrar
So red this rose
Brambles burst from my mouth
(Stammers strangled into sterile silence)
Ink for a Verbal Contract
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.
Beneath Red Regolith
by WC Roberts
Striding tall on spider legs it scans the regolith
the ping of refined metal set off
the protocols
antenna disk cocked upward
Windblown
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.
Yet Part of the Scheme
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 [...]
The Quantum Treatment
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 [...]
Heather
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 [...]