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2/15/22: We are looking for readers in fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. Please see Submittable!

Fiction: July 2012
We Never
A Short Story by Carl Wooton
No news spreads faster than news of a death. Word of the death of a child can be heard simultaneously in a thousand places. Within moments after Sheriff Kyle Broussard had radioed that he and I had found the body of sixteen-years old Gerard Trahan, the word spread by telephone, in back yards from clothesline to clothesline, with whispers in grocery stores, in the looks of faces stunned into silence in the River Café. The circumstances—dead three days, half in, half out of the water, in August heat—of rapid decomposition made it impossible to have an ordinary funeral. I had to bury the remains as quickly as I could. It had to be the next morning.  
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One Question
A Short Story by Dorene O'Brien
Claude’s question triggered a cavalcade of bad memories for Corrine that began with Mike in Room 6 of the Crown Motel. After all the demands—move to the right, use your hand, a little harder—still no banana and some humiliation to boot. “Oh, you’re terrific, baby,” he’d said. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” So she went home and stared into a mirror at someone she didn’t recognize, a face made solemn by reassurances that it wasn’t her, the words “cellulite can be sexy” reverbing in her head. 
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The Blue Lady
A Short Story by Richard Lutman
Normally Colonel Hidalgo of the Ninth Regiment wasn't a drinking man, but today was different. It had been a day to be remembered, one he could recount over and over while sitting on the porch of his retirement villa in the mountains outside the Central American town of San Nueva. He had executed Lopez the rebel leader. After the execution, the Colonel returned to the hotel at the railroad station to celebrate: his work was done and a promotion was surely eminent. His family would be proud.
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Fiction: June 2012
Me Too
Flash Fiction by James Valvis
A commotion in the next room where his parents sleep. He moves into the foyer, and his mother tells him his father isn't breathing. 
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In Memoriam
Flash Fiction by Michael C. Keith
​“Joe Fuller (1937-2012)” declared the timeworn sign on the grub-infested lawn of the Elks Club in Payton, Ohio. 
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Flash Fiction by Michael C. Keith
Appliance cords enraged Bertie Reems. They really pissed him off by constantly getting in his way. Racing to get ready for work, he yanked violently on his iron’s cord to dislodge it from the leg of a nearby kitchen chair..  
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You're Leaving Me
A Short Story by Tom Bonfiglio
There was a sex offender on the loose in Pine Bush the summer Claire’s sister got married. Every two to three nights he would find an open bedroom window, of which there were plenty, it being the hottest July in fifty years, unlatch the screen or simply cut through it with a sharp tool, climb into the room and strip to his underwear.. 
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Flash Fiction by Matthew Brennan
When my father came to find us, I could smell the bad luck on his breath, knowing that whiskey was often the closest he could come to a winner’s high.
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Fiction: August 2012
Whales: A Love Story
A Short Story by Jason Derr
When Nicky Carter first came upon the scene he thought he had discovered two pink whales wrestling in the midnight tide. Only as the moon rose, casting a silver light on both the indifferent Pacific Ocean and the pink whales, did he realize he was witness to two rotund lovers, their fat rolls lapping at each others’ bodies, their low moans a faint melody on the breeze, their genitals working vainly to make a connection through their girth. All together Nicky Carter was witness to 700 pounds of lovemaking.  
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Angus in the Middle
A Short Story by Lucile Barker
Angus stood in front of the dresser mirror and admired his reflection. He smoothed his dyed black mustache and checked the roots on his forehead. He would have liked to check the back but he had broken his hand mirror. He couldn’t quite remember when, but he had stepped on it, while he was wearing his safety boots.

Not bad for sixty-six, he told himself, even though the eyeballs could be clearer. I’ll walk to Jimmy’s to the karaoke, keep the pudge off.

He placed the heavy black Stetson on his head. A real Stetson, inherited from his cousin, Andrew. It fit exactly.
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Fiction: September 2012