Category: Featured

The bed is the biggest problem. It smells like him. Even after stripping it to wash the sheets, as I lay down on the bare mattress waiting for the dryer to finish working its magic, cleansing me of him, I can smell him. It?s a slightly sweet, powdery smell, laced with a hint of something masculine

The heaviness of the shoebox reminded me that it no longer housed its original contents; the fine sheet of dust, evidence of its solitude.

For this Halloween we thought we would run an old, oldy but a goodie (long in the public domain). We hope you enjoy the Brother’s Grimm Hansel and Grethel.

The chair barely fit him anymore. The trail, which led from the cabin to the lake tempted him, but he waited until he heard the screen door to the cabin slap behind her. Across the lake, a fisherman’s small trolling motor sputtered and coughed. He steadied himself on his cane, and pried himself up. She came alongside and took his hand. She was ready but he was not so sure.

“Quit staring at her, Lou. Just say something.”

“I’m not staring, Rob.”

Rob rolls his eyes.

The table is covered with crisp linen on which are set well-chosen wines. Spills will occur, devilish as blood. Salt is an effective remedy in cold soaking before dawn. No-one sees the under world. Tired and hungry maids, no more than children, work by lamplight. It is dark and cool for the wines.

My Mother Laughing by?Dan Sklar My mother laughing. The sound of my mother laughing, closing her eyes, mouth wide open,

The night before my 17th birthday, my mother and father spent the day in the kitchen rolling sushi, my very favorite. If I had closed my eyes walking down the stairs, I could have duped myself into believing I had entered a wharf off the coast of Cape Cod. My mother?s hands were glowing with fish oils and lingering rice. My father kept clasping the bottom of his palms to the sides of his head whenever he tried to eat more than his personal best of wasabi. I only looked on, but every time he swallowed, I could swear my sinuses cleared just from watching him. Sheryl Crow was complaining about some guy who had a secret lover from my mother?s phone in her back pocket turned up loud. I stood and watched, tapping my hips to the countertops lightly.