Contributor: Reese Scott - - He painted green lights all over his room. But it did no good. So instead he went to the corners of the street late at night and climbed up a ladder until he was able to remove the red, yellow and green lights. After he had gotten the green light out, he climbed back up the ladder and put back the red and yellow lights. He figured nobody would tell the difference and sadly he was right. Each night and each morning he stared at the blinking green light. It controlled him. He had read every self help book. Seen all the therapists in the yellow pages. Tried every type of drug the doctors offered. But nothing changed. Each morning he would hear the same voice: “You fucking pussy get out of bed!” “And stop looking at that stupid green light for Christ sakes. Green isn’t even a nice color.” But the green...

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Author: Reese Scott

Contributor: André-Naquian Wheeler - - We were wrestling in Joshua's backyard and Joshua was on top of me, winning as usual, when I sat up suddenly. I wanted to taste the smoothness of his oatmeal colored skin. I leaned in to kiss him and allowed my love to fall either on a pair of receptive lips or on the cold hard ground of shame. Luckily, I felt the squishiness of his lips battling with mine and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pomegranate chap-stick taste of his bean-bag lips. I swear to you I could feel him smiling. He was smiling I tell you and that’s how I’ll be able to sleep tonight after all of this. Knowing that during that one moment in time that he was breaking hours of temple and Torah studies to swim naked in love, Joshua was happy. When we broke away from each other we didn’t say or do anything. We just stared at each...

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Author: André-Naquian Wheeler

Contributor: Eve Francis - - “Do you ever feel like you’re a character in a book?” Will asks. Greg looks up from the grass, using the back of his large palm to shield his eye from the sun. More people, tiny specs of color, move towards them on the field. Greg grabs the blanket from his backpack and lays it on the ground. “Why on earth would you think that, Will?” “I don’t know.” Will sticks his hands in his pockets. “It just feels like everything we do isn’t as personal as it used to be. It feels like we’re being watched half the time, like someone is looking over our every move and analyzing the good parts. It feels like we always have words to say, and the actions that happen are beyond our control. I don’t know…” The people across the field move closer, holding more blankets and backpacks like Greg’s. Will knows he should be...

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Author: Eve Francis

Contributor: ES Cooper - - She could hear him muttering under his breath. Complaining about her clothes on the floor, the cups she left out, and whatever else he could think of. "If I drive you so crazy, why don't you just leave?" She suggested as she rolled over in the bed. "It's that easy for you, then?" He asked; his voice clearly pained. "I'm not saying it's easy, but all you ever do is piss and moan about what I do wrong. What are we doing then?" "Those are just annoyances," he dismissed her. "I love you in spite of them." "You sound miserable." She felt the weight of him as he sat down on the bed with her. "I can't leave. Not yet." "So, we just have an expiration date then? How romantic." She fell asleep to the sound of him sighing and murmuring to himself. # She awoke to the sound of dishes slamming in the kitchen. It sounded...

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Author: ES Cooper

Contributor: Joe Russo - - My mother’s ring had two diamonds on the sides and in the middle a bigger diamond. She wore it everyday, even the day she died. She loved it, even more than her own kids. Supposedly. I was running late to the lawyers office because Rebecca, the girl I wasn’t supposed to be with, wanted to go to breakfast. And because Shelly, the girl I was with, wanted to meet for lunch. I walked into the lawyer’s office at 1:05, an hour and five minutes late. My sister was sitting, with her brown hair in a tight bun and wearing the tightest black dress I have ever seen, in front of the desk. I didn’t know why she was wearing it, the lawyer was over seventy and trying to impress him wouldn’t work. “Glad you finally made it,” Joanna said, making that typical sneer face everyone hated. I sneered back at her and took my seat....

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Author: Joe Russo

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - Father Brennan had been pastor of St. Ignatius Church for 20 years, a long time for any one priest to remain at one parish. Usually the archbishop would transfer a pastor after he had served seven years. By that time, parishioners might have needed a fresh face and fresher homilies and the pastor, truth be told, might like to see a few new faces himself in the pews every Sunday morning. That wasn't the case with Father Brennan, however. St. Ignatius was a parish in decline in terms of parishioners and he loved those who were still there, the ones who hadn't moved or passed away. There were only about 60 people left now, most of them widows and widowers as well as one nice elderly maiden who had never married, Margaret Mary Kelly, who studied early in life to become a nun but ultimately decided that life as...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Joe Dinnen - - It plunged deeper and deeper until it lightly settled among the uneven surface. It hit rock bottom. Leaving a trail of tiny bubbles to the surface. From the outside it looked graceful – the round object plummeting down through the semi-toxic liquid, distorted by the transparent encasing. Whatever, Ron thought as he eagerly gulped the remaining gin from the glass. His plump fingers reached down to grasp the green olive he so intently watched. One finger in particular, marked by drastic tan-line, drove Ron to polish off the three martinis he consumed that night. His late father’s voice echoed in his head… “Martinis are like tits – three are too many, one isn’t enough…” At this point, Ron had no desire to deal with, think about, look at, touch, caress…tits. Nope. Drinking alone in the lobby of a Residence...

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Author: Joe Dinnen

Contributor: Kathy Coman - - It’s been eight agonizing hours and now the moment has finally arrived. All I can think of is getting home to my plush bed that my body has been crying for since the moment my alarm went off at 6:30 in the morning. My hand begins to shake with excitement as my pointer finger reaches for the mouse. With no direction needed to its location, the mouse quickly moves towards the shut down button on my computer screen. I feel energy gaining with each passing second, and then suddenly, “Your computer is unable to shut down at the moment, please wait for all of the programs to close.” What? I scan the screen trying to zero in on the target I need to annihilate so that I may relieve myself from this toxic environment called work. But when I look around my brain is coming back, “Target not in sight.” More eager...

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Author: Kathy Coman

Contributor: R. Jill Fink - - The ancient window unit air conditioner shuddered, growling out a low-pitched protest while the woman smiled up at the stained popcorn ceiling. She reveled in the peaceful, four-minute window after each weekly session of fantastic, frantic sex, but in about forty seconds it would be time to get up and go back to life outside of Room #21. Someone had actually been paid to decorate the motel in orange, brick red, and yellow in the seventies, but no one had been hired to refurbish since that time. Warm colors made her ill. It didn't much matter; she kept her eyes closed the majority of the time she was in here for two reasons: One was to keep her mind off of the putrid decor, and the second was so she could escape to places like Jamaica, Paraguay, or Fiji while she pretended she was younger, more desirable,...

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Author: R. Jill Fink

Contributor: Peter McMillan - - The Suit Shoppe was an institution. Generations of men and boys had been measured, fitted and suited there. Over the years, the store and its owners had figured in many newspaper accounts that promoted the business and the legend of the master tailors who fled their homeland. Joe, the elder, and Harry, his son, created a phenomenal success story, and every four years, TV-savvy people came through to have their pictures taken with these immigrant entrepreneur stars. Between the papers and the parties and traditional word of mouth, advertising was free. Nevertheless, Harry, unlike his father and more like his great grandpa back home, was a showman as well as a tailor and businessman, and he believed in radio saturation. Yet despite having the means and status to move uptown, Harry kept the neighborhood...

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Author: Peter McMillan

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - Driving down the hill I see the same bend in the road the school bus took me around for years. I can see in the headlights the wildflowers ringing the curve like a necklace--goldenrod, cornflower, Queen Anne's Lace, God's gift to country roads in the fall. You don't see anything like that in the city but I'm getting used to living there. I see the house ahead, one light on, upstairs. It's midnight and my father's dead and my mother's in that room praying and maybe crying, waiting for me to pull in. She knows it's a six-hour drive from the city. The wake will be tomorrow night at Egan's mortuary. There will be 15 decades of the rosary to say and I still have trouble getting through five. Then there will be three hours of listening to my mother's friends console her, ancient ladies all, many of them widowed...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Khia Stone - - James watches the news report on the vintage wood- encased floor model TV his father had given to him and his recently deceased wife, Amy. He looks around the home they were building together. Their wedding photo hangs over the marble mantel of the fireplace. The color swatches are still on the walls that have yet to be painted. Their honeymoon photo album is on the mahogany coffee table where he rests his feet. This house is filled with memories of the life he wanted to build with Amy. “A storm is brewing in the Gulf of Mexico with wind speeds close to one hundred miles per hour. At the rate this storm is progressing, it could be considered a category three or four hurricane by landfall and the storm surge alone could cripple the city if the levees don’t hold,” said the meteorologist on WDSU. “We are recommending...

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Author: Khia Stone

Contributor: Aaron Michael Parker - - As they enter the room, Mark barks out a laugh. There are two small beds instead of one big one, the carpet is ugly and looks like something that would be used in a porno. Heather gives Mark a dirty look. “This is supposed to be a romantic getaway. Why are you laughing at this?” Heather asks. “I’m sorry honey, it’s just I think I’ve seen this carpet before.” Heather turns away from Mark and puts her suitcase in the corner. She walks from one end of the room to the other in just two strides. She huffs and then turns back to Mark. “Well, you can forget about any acting out. I’ve seen this carpet, too.” Heather pulls out the one chair from the desk/table in the room and turns it so she doesn’t have to see the stupid grin on Mark’ face. Mark shrugs and puts his suitcase beside hers. He looks up and...

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Author: Aaron Michael Parker

Contributor: Ryan Thomas - - The night sky was littered with specks of falling snow, making it impossible for Joey to see more than ten feet in front of him. He and Dirk sat alone in the cold muddy trench huddled next to each other for warmth. Winter had come early that year, delaying supplies, troops, and the rest of Germany. “Look at us, D,” Joey started as he dropped his cigarette by his feet. “Just like old times. Just a couple of homos curled up on the couch together.” Dirk chuckled, “If I was going to be like that with anyone, J, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.” Joey lifted his jacket to reveal his well-established beer belly, “Come on, this doesn’t get you going?” “That is mighty impressive. What’s that, five hundred beers?” Joey smiled, “All bought and paid for.” “Yeah, by me mostly. Worthless bum.” The two laughed, but were...

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Author: Ryan Thomas

Contributor: Kristina England - - A hummingbird makes its way into the backyard, hovers at its feeder, sipping at nectar. Charlie sits in the grass, marvels at its balance, something he lost months ago. His 18-month-old tot, Jo-Jo, chortles at the creature as it feeds. He reaches down, tugging at his father, desperate to get a better view. Charlie calls out to his wife, who stands at the other side of the yard. She does not hear him, too wrapped up in planning, her voice low, impossible to hear. He knows the arrangements she is making. They discussed it all last night after he told her it was time, the tugs on his body insisting they prepare. Charlie's eyes wander to the IV in his arm, the pole suspended above him. He sighed, makes one last effort for his son, rising half way from the ground until his arms say "no more." Jo-Jo's...

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Author: Kristina England

Contributor: Krysta ViPond - - Andy pulled the car over to the side of the road. He had just returned from the gas station. He wanted the tank to be full for the next potential owner. It was something his father always taught him. “Always make sure there’s fuel in the tank for the next person. Nothing worse than getting in the car and finding it on E.” Andy smiled as he heard his father’s voice in his head. It still did not seem real. It was only a month ago that his father was doting over the old vehicle. Andy’s father, Rick Marley loved the car, and had spent most of his weekends taking care of it. The car had been in the family since Andy was ten years old. Much of his allowance was earned by washing the car’s exterior with an old sponge and a blue bucket full of soap water. As Andy grew older, awaiting the day when he would turn...

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Author: Krysta ViPond