Photo Story: The Cold Bullet
By David DruryThe story goes that when bank robber Wells Duluth was shot dead, the bullet came out the other side encased in ice.
Photo Story: The Liver
By Charlie StephensWe called that bay “The Liver” then, for its brown thickness, for its shame. We had moved back in like roaches, once the wealthy foreigners abandoned us for someplace cleaner to enjoy themselves.
Tattered Little Father
By Taylor OrenI keep a photo of a stranger. I rescued him out of an estate sale cigar box. He looked the most like me.
An Honest Mistake
By Michael SomesI walked into the wrong apartment coming back from work, and someone else’s wife embraced me.
Photo Story: Life in Movies
By Richard EdenfieldWe liked to mash up the entire box of Junior Mints into one big ball. Make it into the Death Star and eat it like Jedi Knights.
Required Summer Reading
By Kimberly TolsonMy grandma kept her pocket paperback romance novels in the scary spare room on the second floor, directly to the right of the J-shaped staircase, the one we’d ride down on the old dishwasher box.
Calling Mom Home
By Elizabeth BoquetI call my mom once a year, on the day she died. Five times I have pulled up “Mom Home” in my contacts. Five times I have pressed the phone icon.
Photo Story: Pierced
By Catina GreenShe wore army men as earrings, stretched t-shirts into skirts and blew through a can of AquaNet every two weeks maintaining a rooster comb hairdo of her own design.
Photo Story: All Things Bright and Beautiful
By Max CardwellUnder northern skies in a hotel bed he is shifting in tidal sleep, from foyer bar oblivion.
Jimmy Leaves a Message and Considers Nautical Miles
By Jason MarakHi, Delta. You're not taking my calls. Maybe you don't have a signal. Either way. Just wanted to tell you keep clear of me.
The Lineup
By Michele BergerRicky drags Derek, out of his hiding place, into the lineup with the other neighborhood boys.
You Couldn’t Wait to Leave This Town
By Jennifer HandleyConcrete steps rise from pebbly cracked sidewalks, but go, absurdly, nowhere. Into the boards of a fence, or the sunless dirt beneath a low tree limb.
