Archive for the ‘September 2008’ Category
Lethe and Love
| by Michelle Muenzler |
Rose dipped her toes into the water. “It’s just a little forgetfulness. Enough to make me forget how long I’ve waited.” “But how do you know he’ll come?” asked the woman sitting beside her. She pushed back the gray hairs from her face; her hands had the crisp edges of the newly dead. Rose rememberedRead more…
The Rescues of Brittan Courvalais
| by Tom Sheehan |
It did not come with electricity or a smash of static on the air, but it was there. Brittan Courvalais, five minutes into the darkness of a new day, a streetlight’s glow falling through his window like a subtle visitor, was caught on the edge of his chair. Knowledge flowed to him, information of aRead more…
The Devil’s Temp
| by Fred Warren |
Bad things typically happened on Mondays at Plugin Services, and this day was no exception. With a flash of fire and a puff of brimstone, Chester found himself in Hell. He hadn’t even finished his first cup of coffee. Hell was an office, and the Devil was there, seated in a red leather chair behindRead more…
A Loser at Age Thirteen
| by Annette Pasternak |
I racked my brain for a title for this essay topic, “Who Am I?” I know you are big on titles Mrs. Kelley, so if you don’t like this one I thought of two alternates. So please if you are going to grade me down because of this one, I’ll tell you the others andRead more…
A Matter of Time
| by D. B. Flynn |
Craig was getting away with murder. All he had to do was cross the street. He spread his fingers and looked at the stopwatch. The countdown had started the second he walked out the back door of Forgiveness, Inc. He’d sold everything he owned to buy thirty minutes and a one way Transfer. The illegalRead more…
She Ugly
| by Katie Karian |
No father wants any man to look at his daughter the wrong way. Most fathers follow behind their daughters with fisted knuckles and glaring eyes, willing the first man to make the wrong move. And most fathers take precautions. My best friend Koharig never leaves her home without wearing a veil over her face andRead more…
Squares
| by Kurt Kirchmeier |
Anna-May stared down at her plate. It was square. It wasn’t supposed to be, she knew, but it was. So, for that matter, were her eggs, even the middle part, the part she always dipped her toast in. “Uh-oh,” she said, remembering the last time this happened. Her mother–her square-headed mother–paused from her breakfast dutiesRead more…