John Vanderslice 1. It is known as the spicier of the two common varieties, although green is not the historically, culturally, aesthetically, or physically mandated shade for extreme, for dangerous, for watch out!   No, green has been, until now, our determined code for all okay, situation normal; even: There is no presently recognized national security … Continue reading Salsa Verde →

Sara Grace Salley The first breath of humidity nearly chokes us. We walk out of the Singapore Changi Airport through automatic sliding glass doors, and Mama says, “It’s so hot it feels like the air is sweating.”  We drag everything we own behind us in six mammoth-sized suitcases, two for me, two for Dad and … Continue reading Hungry Ghosts →

Lawrence Cady It’s getting late, and there is a sudden chill in the air, an early winter front sweeping in from the north. Evelyn hands me a rectangle of aluminum foil, her longish black-brown hair pushed forward over her face and rippling in the wind. She says, “Last one for now. I’m freezing.” “Me too.” … Continue reading The Buffalo of Sentinel Meadows →

Christine Taylor A temporary Hong Kong I.D. card, an Octopus card for the public transportation system, and an EPS bankcard from Hang Seng are stashed in my wallet.  Markers of my new married life. And there are the receipts. I’m supposed to go to the post office in Mui Wo today.  I have to leave … Continue reading Receipts →

Barbara Brooks Food Lion, it’s where I shop, pick up what I need. Make a list but it is not organized like Mom’s: produce, frozen, milk. She would push the cart up and down the aisles. Too tired to make lunch, she would pass the deli, pick up a turkey sandwich she and Dad would … Continue reading Clamshells →

Liz Betz Rolland checks the weather and the number of animals on his sled.  He pulls up on the hilltop, sets the brake, and slips the harness from his shoulders.  This is the part of his trap line where the silver fox appeared two winters ago. It is overcast, but the snow still gathers and reflects … Continue reading Winter Count →

  Jury S. Judge is an artist, writer, poet, and political cartoonist. She is a contributor to The Noise, a literary arts and news magazine serving Northern Arizona. Her “Astronomy Comedy” cartoons are published in the Lowell Observer.  Her artwork will be published in the upcoming issues of the literary magazines, THAT Literary Review, Dodging … Continue reading Lily Entropy →

Jody Gerbig When I was a kid, my grandmother’s house had a bedroom in the upstairs with a secret room behind a footwall. An attic-turned-storage closet, really. On snow days, my older brother and I felt along the textured wallpaper for the barely-there crack of a door and peeled it open, only the hot, dark … Continue reading Snow Day →

Cody Smith So much of those summers scraped against cypress groves as we paddled the pirogue and prayed against storms. The mud-bogged Catahoula Lake bank would swallow James Larry’s pickup like an egg in a snake’s throat. Days ended the same: heat showers, catfish pliers and fillet knife in my hand, my father in his … Continue reading Delta Summers →

Michael Welch The last time Ryan Hobkins felt the pain was at Fat Joe’s Bar, a small dive nestled in between two more successful joints in the heart of Nashville. He played there every other Friday. After two years in the city and a decent amount of success, the bar began advertising his gigs with … Continue reading Mercy →