A Short Story by Sara Miller
She knew something was wrong with the baby. It was in the way he wouldn’t look her in the eye. It was in the way he wasn’t talking by the time he was two. It was in the way he didn’t see her.
She wasn’t young when she had had her son. She was nearly thirty years old and had a nine year old daughter by the time she learned she was pregnant. She was wasn’t ignorant, or inexperienced, or unaware when it came to the oddness of the boy’s behavior. She knew normal two year olds didn’t try to purposely harm themselves or their mothers. She knew that her son’s ability to run on little to no food and less sleep was also not typical. So many things were just not right.
What the mother did know was frightening. She knew from the many articles she read. She knew from the countless symptom checklists she found on the internet. She knew. She just knew. Every parent’s worst nightmare was staring at her in face, reflected back to her in the dark hazel eyes of the little boy she adored so much. Continue reading
A Short Story by Robert Larrabee
I was a samurai with no lord and many said that meant I had no purpose. What they didn’t realize is that I had a purpose. Being a samurai with no lord meant I could devote myself to something greater. At least that’s what I had thought at the time. See back then I was care free. I would simply wander my way through this beautiful land that the gods have gifted us helping people along the way the best I could but no one in this world is perfect… or at least that’s what I thought at the time.
There were times when I would accept payments for these deeds as I was also a samurai for hire but I certainly did not turn a blind eye to those who were in need any way. At that time in my life it was the only way for me Continue reading
A Short Story by Darcey Falen
My childhood was one out of a Good Housekeeping magazine. Gibbstown, the town where I was raised, could always be seen with children at the park, couples walking their dog, joggers on the sidewalk, and picture-perfect houses. Ticky-tacky houses are what Mom used to call them. My house, along with every other house on my street, was a two story, blue house with a big back yard and a flowerbed out front. I never really paid much attention to how good I had it, but looking back, I remember every detail. I remember living on the same street as all my buddies. I remember only having to walk a block to the park that had a football and baseball field. I remember getting my first kiss from Sue Kille next door, and also sharing our back yards to have keg-parties in high school. The best peace of mind is looking back on your life and feeling satisfied.
Dad was the preacher at our church, Continue reading
By Destiny Hinton
The wind blew softly through the settling fog as the man stared at the old and rusted metal, the haunting feeling of broken memories staining his heart. This was once his life’s work, now fallen to pieces. This place was once colorful and full of laughter, but now it was just broken and run down. He missed the old times when he could be proud of what was his and not feel shattered inside when he looked at it.
The old roller coasters, once a beautiful white birch base and bright, shining silver tracks became molded. The white turned to a deep green from wear and weather, moss growing where wood met dirt and climbing upwards. The silver now a rainbow of oranges, reds, and browns, rust covering the metal like a warm blanket would, yet it brought no comfort. The coaster itself had been derailed and fallen off the track. It was now laying broken and vandalized, people having spray painted and written all over it. It was no longer its beautiful red but a variety of vulgar languages and phone numbers, Continue reading