[by Kris Faatz]
Joseph knew his violin wouldn’t cover up the noise when the mail came at noon. Even so, at a quarter to twelve, he took the instrument out of the case because a hard knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and he didn’t know any other way to get through the daily torture. He tucked the violin under his chin, studied the dripping gray pines outside his apartment’s picture window and let his fingers trace arpeggios he hadn’t had to think about for years. Continue reading Solo Fantasy
[by Shannon Connor Winward] —after Edgar Allan Poe (for Joanne) ___Midnight in the cemetery, prowling, hunting, fat and merry One black Cat grew rapt and wary, pausing on the bone yard floor. ___In the sky the moon hung low, setting earth and grave aglow; ___All gleamed white without shadow, but for a looming […]
[by Linda McCullough Moore] I am sitting in a coffee shop, attempting to outwit my life. It’s gotten out of hand—hard as that that may be to reckon, given the fuzzy silhouette it casts on even brightly-lighted days. My life, a tiny, cramped and cosseted production that fills up only the odd corners of the […]
[by Dan Stout] fettuccine et crevettes en sauce à la crème bayou Begin by placing the Seasoning Mix in a small bowl. Refer to page 842 for Seasoning Mix ingredients. Glance at the clock and roll your eyes as you wonder how many more detours you’ll find in this recipe. Place the ingredients for the […]
[by Keith Skinner] Through the windows of the Doryman Pub, I watched the storm batter the coast, the same deluge that had raged since early morning and showed no sign of waning. Wind-driven breakers clawed at the ragged scarp of Chéticamp Island, an oblong stretch of offshore land that was both the town’s namesake and […]
[by Joel Reeves] Egladine, the witch of the Old Northern Forest, squinted through pale blue eyes at the large black tome opened on the oaken table. Like all witches, she had green skin, a wart on her cheek, a tuft of hair sprouting from her chin, a pointed hat, and of course, a large bubbling iron […]
[by Judith Skillman] You need no more regret those things that led to your regret, for regrets are small potatoes meant to be served by themselves at table.
[by B.H. Findley] The April rains go on through May, and then continue into June. By the second week of July the smell of mildew has seeped into the carpets, and two inches of water stand in the basement. Puddles spread in the leach field. The garden is all mud and leaves. The tomatoes show […]
Peter Ostroushko is a gifted musician best known for his mandolin and fiddle playing and as the musical director for A Prairie Home Companion. We sat down with Peter recently and had a wide-ranging discussion about music, dancing, and culture. In this last of four installments Peter performs with guitarist Danny Gotham a selection of tunes from the book […]
[by John Grey] She lifts one leg up to the bar, the other straight as a broom handle. While most girls fall apart, she keeps her stillness. She’s a painting, that’s how she achieves her immortality.