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Another Day

Henry Vinicio Valerio Madriz·April 13, 2024

Another Day written by: Henry Vinicio Valerio Madriz The cold didn’t let him sleep; it was a...

English Literature

·7 mins read

What It Means To Kneel

Yumi Wada·January 5, 2024

What It Means To Kneel written by: Yumi Wada Once, I visited a local sauna in Seoul...

English Literature

·2 mins read

The Bench

Steve Dooré·September 20, 2023

The Bench written by: Steve Dooré @stevedoore84 He was cold. This wasn’t unusual – living outside means...

Literature English

·13 mins read

Suffer the Little Children to Come Unto Me

Julia Townson·June 1, 2023

Suffer the Little Children to Come Unto Me written by: Julia Townson Somewhere a child suffers in...

Poetry English

·1 min read

A Tone

C.R. Daugherty·February 22, 2022

A Tone written by: C.R. Daugherty Civil war: what but earth are we fighting for? We belong...

English Poetry

·1 min read

#First World Problems

CJ Delous·December 12, 2019

#First World Problems written by: CJ Delous Swept along by the causal tide, riding the waves of...

English Poetry

·1 min read

After a long career tinkering in telecommunications, Jim Bartlett switched to tinkering with writing fiction, both requiring a stretch of the imagination. In the course of putting his fingers to the keyboard, he's been fortunate to have quite a number of his stories featured both in print and online in several wonderful publications, including a story selected for "The Best of Fiction on the Web, 1996 – 2017" anthology. While mentally he strolls along a warm California beach with his wife and golden retriever (shhh, she doesn't know she's a dog), physically they reside on a special little island in the Pacific Northwest.

Reaper by Sharon Frame Gay

As an orphaned son of an orphan, I always see the glass as half empty. I picture the water murky and lukewarm, a waterline etched below the rim. Maybe with an ash or two floating at the bottom, because that’s what I do for a living. I deal with ashes. The remains of the deceased. No matter how those who pass away see their glass, meager or full, they eventually end up in a satchel carried on my shoulder.
My business card reads “Morton Stark Transport.” I’m called upon to disperse the ashes of the dearly departed and honor their final wishes. People hire me to escort the remains throughout the world ...

Features

Barney and His Angel

To Grandmother’s House

The Visit

Interviews

Spotlight On Writers – Maliya Denise Wilmore

Spotlight On Writers – John Neff

Interview Q&A With P.A. O’Neil

A Bead of Ice

Sygnatariusze Listów do Gwiazd

A Strange Place

The Golden Geese

Unfair

A Woman and a Man at Lunch

The Political Nile

The Last Act of Alice Golightly

inequality

Another Day

What It Means To Kneel

Suffer the Little Children to Come Unto Me

A Tone

#First World Problems

Hymn Of The Eternal Feast

To Grandmother’s House

Breakfast on the Beach

The Visit

The Christmas Figure is Unmoved

Naughty Or Nice

Lips Between Lips

A Strange Place

A Bead of Ice

Sygnatariusze Listów do Gwiazd

Success Despite Childhood Trauma

2AM Thoughts