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We are announcing a new services from EWR. It seems like a natural progression for us to now offer free writing courses from EWR.

Dust has settled in the empty room where mice have found habitation among the spiders and spectres of empires lost in a game of chance. Once – who knows when – someone left a handprint in the dust.

It was a while before he spoke. With apparent unease, he strung words and uttered them in greater reluctance. The bonfire gleamed in his eyes, and each word slashed the air with a cold vibe, demanding absolute attention and a silence spread amongst the group.

Weathervane by Christina Isler “Honey, the package arrived!” I called to my husband. There was no pause in the typing

Born in socialist flavored independent India of ?68 . My earliest conscious memory: I was two and half, a soft bundle of flesh and bones, when I met with a nasty fire accident in the kitchen. Me lying on the rough coir mattress; my tummy swollen like a tender football because of the internal burns

The girl was naked; her back leaned against the birch tree like she was part of it. Blonde pieces of hair were turned white by the moon. You watched her from the old convertible your dad had given you; it’s top was stuck down behind the back seat.

?I?m glad it?s spring at last,? he thought walking through the sacristy door and towards the altar. ?People drop like flies during the cold months.?

This isn?t a bad story, just a short story about what happened in Oregon. My folks had divorced the year before and Dad flew the coop to Astoria to work on a fishing boat. I rode with my sister on the bus out to spend the summer with him, a twenty-hour trip from Big Timber, Montana. Well, we were on the same bus anyway. She was one of those geeks who wanted to sit in the front and all, and did.