That Girl 

By Heather Beecher Hawk
My first real boyfriend, Alan, was a year older. We dated the summer after I graduated from high school.

Photo Story: The Postcard

By Arleane Ralph
Contractors discovered the postcard upon pulling out the kitchen cabinetry. It sat for days on a switch box until the drywallers came.

The Postman

By Elisa Jay
I’m surprised to see the postman’s face at last. The wrinkles parenthesizing his lips and eyes are soft...

Youth in Orbit

By Aaron Teel
We wanted to be the first children in space but by the time we finished building our rocket we were very old and our hearts weren’t in it anymore.

Solitary Work

By Amy Lyons
Maria slouches near the reference desk squinting through porthole-thick lenses at Little Women.

The Size of Memory

By Merrill Sunderland
Once upon a time, you loved being big. Your bone-smuggling classmates reminded you daily...

The End of the End

By Stephen Cicirelli
She asked sarcastically because she was afraid of what he really thought of her.

Regarding the Muse or My Husband

By Maria Pinto
We rode a barrel over Niagara Falls as practice for riding night over the skyline.

Photo Story: I am …

I am the cold shiver in the warm bath, the sour bite of the cherry, the wedge of food in your windpipe. I am half past home time for the kids you trusted to the swing park. I am the rise in your stomach as you take the blind bend on the brink of too late. I am the late night call that...

I Sometimes Imagine This

By Bianca Ozeri
I read in a book that it is not just the earth that is dying, but the universe itself.

Grant Faulkner Writes about Life’s Fissures

Grant Faulkner, the author of Fissures, is a living Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. He is both the director of National Novel Writing Month and the co-founder of 100 Word Story. I believe we can safely say that Grant has an unabashed fetish for microfiction as well as an enduring, romantic love of the long-form novel, and the creative processes relating to both.

Little Bear

By Roberta Beary
Goldilocks hugs the wheel and we’re off. Speeding to church. I’m squeezed next to her in the front with Mama Bear.