All posts by Tim

ILONA RAPIN: Paradise – A State of Mind

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

The Hawaiian radio station invites song requests.

“Two Tickets to Paradise by Eddie Money.”

“Good choice. When will you be arriving?” emails the DJ, after I tell her where I am from.

“I’ve been in Kona for three months, and I’ve had a wonderful time, but I’m heading home tomorrow.”

Ilona Rapin is addicted to the curiosity and excitement of wandering the world, which inspires her to write short stories about her impressions.

HANNAH BUB: I Wish You Hadn’t

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, , , , ,

I could tell you wanted to kiss me because you watched my lips instead of the fireworks. My eyes were devout worshipers of the colorful display. I felt your body’s heat oppressing my space. Your breath was slow; my heart was fast. I am sorry that I turned my head.

Hannah Bub writes both fiction and poetry. You can find some of her work in October Hill Magazine (2018, 2023), Wingless Dreamer (2021, 2023), and the Greene Street Review.

KAREN CRAWFORD: The Color of Clouds

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

I remember the stars sprinkling a cotton candy sky. Pinky fingers intertwined. A promise we’d always be close.

Then school, jobs, husbands, miles. A post on Facebook. Feeling my knees fall.

I remember the color of clouds. A whispering sky. The fresh breath of trees. Being nowhere. Feeling you everywhere.

Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels where she exorcises demons one word at a time.

ERIKA NOEL JOHNSON: Down

Adventure, Amusing, Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Focus on SkyMall. Pick a snack. Granola. Chew it slowly.

Crashes are rare and panic doesn’t help.

Soon I’ll be on a beach, alive and well with sandy toes.

Focus on chewing. Chocolate.

The plane will descend, it will land, I’ll cancel my return flight, and I’ll swallow.

Trail mix.

Erika Noel Johnson is figuring things out.

BRENNA BOYTIM: Crash at the Bottom

Artistic, Submissions, ,

She fell down the stairs yesterday. Bruised her cheek. Bloodied her nose. All she did was smile up at me from her crash at the bottom.

I flickered the moth-crazed house lights, seeking help. She laughed, then.

I floated down, but my vaporous hands couldn’t hold her. No one can.

Brenna Boytim writes about ghosts, regrets, and reveries. You can find her on Twitter at @hi_thisisbrenna.

DONALD A RANARD: At the Hospital

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

It was next to him on the nightstand, still open, the one thing he always had with him—his Swiss Army knife.

“Can you take it?” my mother said after we’d packed everything else. “I can’t.”

I stood there staring at it, unable to take it, unable to close it.

Donald A. Ranard’s writing has appeared in 50-Word Stories, 100 Word Stories, The Atlantic, Gargoyle, Litro, The Washington Post, Every Day Fiction, and many other publications. His one-act play, ELBOW. APPLE. CARPET. SADDLE. BUBBLE., was named one of three finalists in Veteran Repertory Theater’s 2021 playwriting contest. Based in Arlington, VA, he has lived in 10 countries in Asia, Europe, and Latin America.

WAI MEI WONG: Illusion

Adventure, Submissions, , ,

“Do you think you’re seeing things that aren’t real?” my psychiatrist asked, continuously typing on his computer.

I looked at the lady standing next to him, blood stains soaked through her white gown. She blew a breath on his neck, and he scratched.

“No, I don’t. Do you?” I asked.

Wai Mei Wong is a former early childhood educator living in Toronto, Canada. She often thinks someone is watching her when she is writing horror in the middle of the night.

CAROL TYMANN: Play It Again

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

A bonus day with my granddaughter
Doing whatever occurs to her moment to moment
Her shameless giggling
Her quick-silver mind
Her soft-as-dough hugs
Her pillowy hand
Her huger-than-life heart
Her limitless imagination
Her endless potential

I’m the luckiest girl alive to tread this giddy path long ago and now… again.

Carol Tymann writes, reads, walks, and plays in upstate New York.