September 2008

 

 


ACCIDENT
By John Calderazzo

Hurrying through mashed down weeds and settling dust, I see the car bottom up, naked in the glare of strangers and the Milky Way, a flipped turtle, legs flailing.  In the passenger seat a woman hangs upside-down.

HOW CATHOLIC
By Terese Svoboda

What a surprise, Mom said. Dad already had his hand stuck in over the car door. Not since our wedding, he was saying, long time, where’re you on your way to? The rest of us were struck dumb, the better to hear.

CATCH
By Patrick Madden

Later that night, during dinner, we noticed a guy in a sky-blue-and-white-striped Argentina soccer jersey wandering across our yard. I thought he might be looking for a lost dog.

A CHILD IS NOT A FURNITURE
By Brian Doyle

He has misgivings. He worries things ahead of time. I admire that man fierce but you cannot worry all the time. You must ford the river with your head held high.

WHY
By Kathrine Leone Wright

Because it doesn’t cost a dime or an asphalt burn. Because you shouldn’t run with sharpies. Because I can make seventy five pieces of popcorn small enough to fit inside my small mouth.

VIRUS 1
By Brian Oliu

Somewhere in the late summer of 1982, perfection was breached, and I started to hit the bottom of my mother’s ribs with the top of my head, like an unfortunate swimmer who opts to surface underneath the dock. 

ADVANCE. RETREAT. LUNGE. RECOVER
By Kate Flaherty

Joe is eleven. We have moved five times in this span, and unlike his dad or his nine-year-old sister, Joe and I are less successful at the art of starting over.

THREE GRACES
By John Griswold

Their faces looked harder and more worn, the disappointments more obvious, now they were made up to go out. They cooed and smiled, and one was missing teeth. They were very beautiful.

AT THE NURSING HOME, MY MOTHER IS SERVED TRAIF
By Philip Terman

All of her life she, lit the candles as commanded, braided the bread for the Sabbath, fasted for atonement.

THREE BITES
By Leslie F. Miller

At ten, Serena is so addicted to sweets that nearly every meal ends with either dessert or a junkie-style tantrum.  Weekend breakfasts must be topped with a cinnamon Bismarck or chocolate donut.

WAITING TO HIT
By J.T. Bushnell

I can see my mom in the photo as just a young girl in love, wearing the cap that belonged to the boy she would marry, and it brings tears to my eyes, because it makes me imagine photos of the girl I'm in love with.

MUSIC LESSONS
By Rita Rubin

You remember your piano teacher as being around your parents' age, but he had no wife or children. He was famous for wearing open-neck shirts with a scarf tied around his throat. And, because he was such a taskmaster, for making his students cry.

BLIND
By K. L. Cook

I was disappointed in a way I'd never articulate, even to myself, when the bandages were unspun from her eyes, her vision miraculously restored, like a gift from the gods.