Author: Angela Glotfelter

, | By JL Bogenschneider

[ September 7, 2015 ]

Irregular Border Marriages

The border hasn’t always existed. It was put there for complex geo-historic and political reasons so long ago that no-one knows much about them now. I live right next to the border, which is a line drawn in the dirt. That is also true of my home, which is a series of straight lines, bisecting …

, , | By Andrea Linebaugh

[ August 31, 2015 ]

Freaks

  Born in 1890, Tod Browning, one of the first horror genre directors, began his career during the silent film era. “He was the John Carpenter of his day,” claims Dr. William Dodson, Professor of Rhetoric, Literature, and Media Studies at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Browning directed such films as the original …

, | By Susan DeFreitas

[ August 3, 2015 ]

The Terrible Child

When we were young, we all believed in something called earth changes. The coming of quakes, floods, droughts—natural disasters in increasing frequency and severity—pole-shift and climate change. Things of this nature. But we were not afraid. We were so young then that we believed we cared more for the earth than we did for ourselves. …

, | By Jeff Fearnside

[ July 27, 2015 ]

Checkout

She wore a plain brown scarf on her head, dark crow’s wings of hair peeking out from the rough cloth, framing a pale, thin face. A young boy, with the body of a three-year-old but the large round head of a much older child, pulled at her skirt, also rough but with a bright, flowered …

, | By Nate Pritts

[ July 20, 2015 ]

The Letter

Sam brought in the mail just after noon on Wednesday, threw it on the table, and started to make some lunch. He didn’t sort through the envelopes until a few hours later. After lunch, he cleaned up his plate and put the long bag of white bread away. Then he got on a kick about …

, | By J Adamthwaite

[ July 13, 2015 ]

The White Stork

A stork on your roof is a blessing from God. That’s what everyone says. We can see the edge of the nest above us from our bedroom window, a shadow of twigs watching over our sleep. Sometimes she calls to herself, and it sounds like she’s firing machine guns out over Warsaw. Izabella has started …

, | By Zinnia Smith

[ July 6, 2015 ]

Sweet Virginia

It seems to me that much of my life can be reiterated with a few sentiments and phrases. There have not been many extraordinary circumstances—the only exception being a short two years that meant to me everything life could be. One day, I was born and given the name Lucy. I was raised in my …

, | By Sahar Mustafah

[ June 29, 2015 ]

The Great Chicago Fire

  His right eyelid was like an apricot pulp forgotten in the sun too long, its once inviting color long faded. My parents wanted me to call him khalo, but khalo meant uncle, and uncle was familiar, yet this man wasn’t familiar to me at all. Though he and my mother shared the same thick, …

, | By Pat Rathbone

[ June 22, 2015 ]

Monsters

Luisa eyes the asparagus I am preparing for our dinner. She says my kitchen is her cooking school—Maggie’s Culinary Institute, she calls it. I tell her she needs to secure more professional instruction before she quits her day job. She is the CEO of a non-profit on the other coast. She makes big bucks. I …