Frank Sutton’s fifteen-year-old cat seemed to enjoy rousting him   from sleep only on Saturdays when he had the day off and could stay in bed an extra hour. Today was no exception. Fully awake, he shooed the beast from his chest with a muttered curse and dressed quickly – khakis and a starched button-down with an ink stain on the pocket. He was thinking of leaf-filled gutters, bacon and eggs, the divorce Cheryl had threatened last week right after church, for no good reason.

It came silently in the night but not without warning. And now she marveled at how quickly and completely the interloper had overtaken the landscape. The intruder’s blanket of white was indeed quite a sight. But how such beauty could cause so much angst for her she deemed bitterly ironic. Her teenage children were ecstatic that their school had closed due to the winter storm. But she had no reason to celebrate. She’d be expected to work, albeit from home, while her offspring

James arrived at the synagogue early. Almost fifteen years had passed since he'd last been here. It hadn't changed, a stark structure of old brick with no adornments of any kind. In the cool morning air the sounds of his leather shoes were sharp on the stone steps. The sun was bright, the day brisk. He took a deep breath, barely invigorated by the cold rush that filled his lungs, and opened the heavy wooden door. Exhaustion wrapped his body like an old blanket. Too many

Dr. Benoit was only a bit saner than his patients. Volunteering on Christmas Eve felt rash to his office partners, but the veteran psychiatrist insisted. He’d received an emergency call from a healthcare protection officer at noon, and by twelve-thirty, Dr. Benoit drove his compact car five hours downstate through hoary weather, listening to past recordings from the involuntary psychiatric wing’s most precarious patients including… her . When he arrived at Gray Ridge Hospital

My machine works. I input a time and I’m taken there, as the time is now, all abandoned set pieces where the actors have since moved on. Everything continues in the present because that’s where the people are. I came here, twenty years in the past, intending to change it—and of course the present by proxy. But I’m still bleeding out, carrying the present’s fatal wound, and now that I’m here I’m content observing the suspended state of my youth. Or maybe I just want to be. Eve

Dust danced between the sunbeams shining through the front window of the old shop. The smell of lavender and mildew drifted through the small space, which was filled with a maze of bookshelves, many of them pressed at odd angles against each other. The individual shelves were organized in a similar manner, each decorated with random objects—books, jewelry, herbs, vials, clocks—all ranging from magical to ordinary.   Lena had spotted the shop as she roamed the cobblestone st

(Dedicated to Tony Morris)   As a man sow, shall he reap. – Bob Marley   You’ve heard the warning. Don't try this at home. Here's another one for the list. Detoxing from alcohol. I already knew that, having endured it enough times to prove every theory of alcoholic insanity. But here I was again, 2:00 a.m., alone in bed. My longtime girlfriend, LeAnne, had deserted months earlier, weary of my lurching trip along the bottom. “Don’t call me,” was her parting salvo, “until you

“That’s right, Daddy’s lost.” Arthur pushed Lori along in her stroller. “Lost.” He flapped his hands out to either side of his body as he emphasized the first consonant sound of the word “L-l-l-lost.” “Where are we?” he crowed, then tickled his daughter’s nose, repeating his query twice, each time speaking in a more elevated sing-song, “Where are we? Where are weeee?” The baby giggled and cooed. She answered with a long happy babble, even offering up a few rewarding “da

Mr. Morton needed a new pair of shoes.  That’s what Grace had said in her message.  His loafers were tattered and the soles had worn...

Debbie dropped her luggage on the floor of the little efficiency apartment allocated to her in the Bradbury habitat on Mars and sneezed....

A magnet held the snippet to Leah’s refrigerator door. She remembered the jagged hole the words left when she desperately cut the lines...

It was a silent night, but it was far from holy. Ink-black sky stretched above, untouched by stars. Winter clung to the air, sharp and...

I leaned against my father’s truck, breathing in the humid city air. I didn’t live in this part of town. It was too rich for my blood....

Mass confusion greets Officers Williams and Sawyer as they stare through their tinted squad car window, but maybe that’s to be expected...

The fishermen saw the smoke first. Their shouts alerted the men in their workshops on the hill, who seized what tools might serve for...

When we practice generosity and forgiveness, we reflect the image of God. – Mac Canoza I was sitting on the toilet when I got the...

Three tattoos and three people with vastly different lived experiences collide in this flash fiction story.

She lived for the cool night breeze, like a cloud in the sky, free and easy, always wandering. I often wondered if she’d just wandered...

Dedicated to Louis Clinton Carrier, my grandfather          I remember running through the forest of endless trees, skylight breaking...

You forced my hand. When you modernized, flying all around the world in your airplanes, I could have mutated, evolved. I could have...