Tag: story

Praying to Her Thumbs By Tim Major

Theodore shuffled backwards into the lee of the narrow wooden shelter. He inhaled the familiar scent of old oak. The floor was slightly sticky, but other than that this shelter was one of the better ones. The overhang and the shelters in the row in front obscured his view of the podium, despite the slight

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Boogieman Vigilante By Alpheus Williams

You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I’m telling you why                        Santa Claus is Coming to Town                     Haven Gillespie, 1933 I’m the other side of that coin, the boogieman parents use to frighten their children, the Krampus from old

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Fermata By A. Martine

# Tuesday When she gets home, she sits in the stillness of her apartment for a minute. She studies the piano from the corner of her eyes. Grandiose, silent, waiting. All is well. She opens her trolley and sets it in the corner of the living room, with no intention to put it away just

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The Boy With The Keys By Harrison Kim

Ted held a key attached to a silvery label, it glinted in the sun. “Got it from a girl I travelled with,” he said. “She trusted me to keep it safe.” I looked at the label. “Is that a Vancouver address?” “You bet, man.” We met on the road, heading west at Sault Ste. Marie.

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Sealed with a Kiss By Michael Handrick

London’s lights slap against my face as I rest my forehead against the window. My eyes drop open and shut, filled with flickering bars of fluorescent lights and blurred reflections of myself staring back at me. The Uber driver hasn’t said a word, and neither of us has asked him how his night has been

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When English Teachers Fall in Love By Brandon White

His students argued that he should take the day off. Answering emails at 10 PM on a Saturday was unacceptable. Two students created a PowerPoint and presented it to him and the rest of the class—the theme–It was time for him to find a social life. Middle-age was not scary. They used the Toulmin Model

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Barbershop Annihilation By Jack Congdon

Pompadour, Caesar, Undercut, Crew. French Crop, Ivy League, Mid fade, Buzz. I guess it starts with the smell of American Crew and sweat. At least, that’s what my mind stretches for as I look back- I’ve no sense for certain, what with the throbbing drum in my head and the hallucinatory quality of my vision.

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Burial Suit By Hannah Lee

Before we know what pain is, we are told to let it out. Thirty children crowd in a circle, the woman with the iron-grey hair in a chair at the centre, above us all. It is a watery winter day. Pale sunlight creeps through the classroom windows, glittering off the teardrop-shaped pendant the woman wears

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Choices By Sarah McPherson

A man walks, unaware that he is part of some grand experiment. He walks, not knowing his choices are monitored, checked against lists, measured against outcomes. Rated to determine whether they are good or bad. Judged on how they will impact his life or the lives of those around him. He walks. Will he turn

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The Bell By Mark Martin

Everyone watched in joy and amazement as Tarra and Shirley intertwined trunks and made ‘purring’ noises at each other. Shirley very deliberately showed Tarra each injury she had sustained at the circus, and Tarra then gently moved her trunk over each injured part. Carol Buckley, cofounder of the Elephant Sanctuary, Tennessee *** My first date

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