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The Clock

Candi Lavender·November 21, 2021

The Clock written by: Candi Lavender Prologue 1898. Hans Werner bent over his work table puzzling at...

English Literature

·10 mins read

A Silent Cry

Vijayeta Tirkey·May 13, 2021

A Silent Cry written by: Vijayeta Tirkey @vijayeta_tirkey They greeted me with half-hearted smiles, Yearning to be...

English Poetry

·1 min read

A QUESTION OF CONSCIENCE II

GS. Subbu·April 4, 2021

A QUESTION OF CONSCIENCE II The Reality of Aging and Caregiving written by: GS Subbu @gssubbu50 ‘I...

Editorial English

·6 mins read

The Crime of The Century

Michael Danese·July 9, 2020

The Crime of The Century written by: Michael Danese @danesemc Josie Grecco, PhD was on top of...

The Dissolution of Assets

A. L. O'Connor·June 20, 2020

The Dissolution of Assets written by: A. L. O’Connor John and Marcy Long just got into the...

English Literature

·5 mins read

Charades at St. Margaret’s

Grendad·May 31, 2020

Charades at St. Margaret’s written by: Grendad When Ernest came to live with us here in St...

Literature English

·6 mins read

Strange Doodles

Stephanie Musarra·November 26, 2018

Strange Doodles written by: Stephanie Musarra @dungeonwriter39 What is this strange hieroglyphic I found on the men’s room...

English Poetry

·1 min read

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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

The Light We Keep

The Great Christmas Caper

This is Our Christmas

Interviews

Spotlight On Writers – Dmitriy Belyanin

Spotlight On Writers – Miroslava Panayotova

Interview Q&A With Jim Bartlett

The White Robe of Noelle

The Light We Keep

St. Nicholas Goes to His Eternal Reward

Where Angels Tread

The Road to Pelathousa

Hold Tight

Sounds of Thank You

World’s Best Cook: My Gram

nursing home

The Clock

A Silent Cry

A QUESTION OF CONSCIENCE II

The Crime of The Century

The Dissolution of Assets

Charades at St. Margaret’s

Strange Doodles

Ghost of a Christmas Past

Cieder Muld and the Boy

This is Our Christmas

The Spy Hiding in the Bougainvillea

The Great Christmas Caper

The Post of Christmas Past

Elf on the Very Wrong Shelf

Another Christmas Eve in Christmastown

Spotlight On Writers – Dmitriy Belyanin

The Light We Keep

The White Robe of Noelle

St. Nicholas Goes to His Eternal Reward