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Fiction

February 2007 Issue

Flight of the Swanns By Diane Stevens

Delia Swann turned fifty and became a dancer. Married in Boise, at seventeen, to a sheep rancher named Harry, she’d rarely danced a step. Only the odd waltz or polka as a child in the kitchen. She’d always been a clumsy girl, solid, fit for bearing children, which she did quickly and proudly….

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January 2007 Issue

Minding The Gap By Janet Gilman

Today on the subway an old man sat on my lap. He just backed right up into me and sat down. I tried to push him off, but he looked from side to side as though something slightly annoyed him, and sat there. The subway was crowded, and some boys from the high school stared […]

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Crossed Signals By Bob Herbstman

The first time was really an accident. At about 9:30 one balmy spring evening, Dave Ferris was driving his three-year-old son, Max, around trying to tire him out, when he spotted the street sign lying on the curb. The metal pole to which the sign had been fastened was bent in half…

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April 2006 Issue

Ten of My More Reasonable Deathbed Fantasies By Tim Poland

We’re blindsided by birth. We don’t stand a chance. But if we’re lucky, we might be able to see death coming from a little way off, might be able to prepare ourselves. I want to be ready. So, on occasion, I practice. Every once in a while I get it right. Most often, things tend […]

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August 2005 Issue

There is No God and Mary is His Mother By Marion Winik

She was there, because she’s always there, and I was late, because I’m always late, swerving into the parking lot kicking up gravel like the last cop to arrive at the scene. I slid my hatchback into the spot next to her black pick-up, and she got out to meet me.

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December 2001 Issue

A Moment, Please By Catherine Munch

Thank goodness for a baby’s laughter, though it was a little disconcerting when it occurred while the baby was nursing. Those big gray eyes smiled up at her. His mouth opened and great huffy silent giggles shook his entire tiny body. The nipple shook too.

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May 2001 Issue

The Night I Spent With My Grandmother’s Lover By Lisa Gale Garrigues

My grandmother who is always smiling spends most of her time with a man in the basement. It is a huge basement, big enough for more than one man, but my grandmother says these days one man is enough for her[…]

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May 2000 Issue

The Serpent Box and The Poison Jar By Vincent Louis Carrella

First Prize, 2000 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
Charles Flint had for some time been in the habit of consuming lethal doses of strychnine and lye. He learned it from the Bowsky brothers, several years back, under a patched canvas circus tent in the hills of north Georgia[…]

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Eating Van Gogh By Mark Simon Burk

I ate a Van Gogh. Not a major one. And not all of it. But I did manage to tear off an entree size piece and chew it until the bitter oils burned metallic hot in the back of my throat.

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July 1999 Issue

Life During Wartime By Ellie Forgotson

Summer in New York City. Year of our lives 1997. About eight hundred degrees Fahrenheit. On Clinton Street, a teenage boy slams his fist into a chain link fence and shouts at his girlfriend: “You ain’t nothing, bitch! You show me some respect!”

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