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obscured view of a bride

[by J.M. Young]


How did I get here?

We had made the choice that ending our engagement like mature adults was the best course for the both of us. We weren’t good for one another, in that way. Ethan took a job as a professor in Boston. I refused  to leave my photography business in Tennessee. Long distance was torturous. He has a daughter ten years my junior who hated my guts. He made me cry almost every time we were together. The list goes on.

But we were good in the sack. Continue reading Promise

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The Return

courtyard with orange trees

[by Bethany van Sterling]


“The duende never repeats itself, any more than the waves of the sea do in a storm.” – Federico Garcia Lorca


She could hear the peaks and falls of the notes twirling through the air, as she turned the corner in the cold, musty vestibule of the metro station. Two cobalt eyes glanced up from his instrument, not once, but twice. Continue reading The Return

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Pirates for Life

androgynous person in dramatic costume

[by Ingrid Garcia]


Andro Gyne’s shape-shifting glitter suit was running at full throttle as be floated through the corridors of her kleptocracy’s Piercer of the Void. The outfit flowed from ballerina outfit to ball gown, from skirt to skirt suit to tuxedo with a fluidity that matched Gyne’s effortless traverses through the sexes. Continue reading Pirates for Life

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The Sin Eater

strange woman hiding in water

[by James Lawrence Rhodes]


It was November 1977 on the beach of Aberdaron that I first saw the figure of Dafydd Jones. The heat of the summer had passed into a bright but cold autumn. My father, an offshore oil worker, had rented a local cottage for the entire year and my mother, who was clearly bored to tears at home, had insisted that we get as much use out of it as possible. We were there for half term. Continue reading The Sin Eater

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Road to Orion

man and guitar in a dark room

[by Terry Sanville]


Albert Perkins let out a low moan as he slowly climbed the steps. “Damn knees,” he muttered and slumped into the first seat in back of the nickel-plated pole. The doors hissed shut and the bus driver momentarily twisted around, grinning.

“And a good afternoon to you, Mr. P. How’re gigs?” The driver  released the air brake and swung the big vehicle into traffic.

“You know damn well I haven’t had a gig in years. You be sure to let me know when Swing music comes back around.” Continue reading Road to Orion