Photo Prompt: Door No. 1, Door No. 2

By Eric Skinner
When He asks, Elizabeth chooses Room #2. There, she rides the bicycle hell-fire down steep hills, her red hair the color of mercurochrome covering wounds.


By Rosemary Birkholz
My sister is living in Shanghai on a temporary work visa. We text when she’s having her coffee and a bowl of congee and I’m getting ready for bed.

When I Was Twenty-one

By Dan Sklar
In the end she stayed in her ratty white bathrobe, strummed her guitar all day, smoked cigarettes, ate apple pie from the box, quit taking showers.

One Man’s Patriot

By Ned Randle
Her trip to England didn’t go well. As her return ship scudded past the Statue of Liberty, the baby sloshed in her belly.

Photo Prompt: Person in a Box

“Mwahaha, I’m a robot!” I yelled, voice muffled through the cardboard.
“Robots don’t say ‘mwahaha,'” he whispered next to me. “They say 'beep-boop.’”

Streets at Night

By Lee L. Krecklow
We took to the streets and to the rooftops high on inhalants and high on each other and high on ourselves.


By Eric Prochaska
The first warm breath mitigates her melancholy. I sustained my young love through another winter.

A Change of Clothes

By Robert Scotellaro
Widows are beautiful, he thought. So covered in need they shimmered. This was his third.


By Jane Ciabattari
She was good at trimming. Fastidious. He paid her $879 in cash. On time.

Lenin at 144

By Ed Severson
Lenin's receiving in his Moscow Mausoleum. He's done quite well death-wise. Countless fans drop by to see him.

Were They So Comely

By Christian Hayden
Cast-iron stove on the sidewalk. Pans in the snow. I’m looking up at our balcony. How’d she get the stove over the railing?

Playing House

By Amy Ash
A girl swallows a matchstick, stifles the slow burn in the hollow of her throat. She wants a home, she says, smoke curling from her tongue.