I am five. My mother has picked me up from school after her lunch shift at the restaurant. She smells like cooking oil, sliced fish, and soy sauce.
Arizabesu by Elizabeth Miki Brina
Category: Creative Nonfiction
Enough by Robert Weinberger
My father is the wisest man in the world. Children say things like this all the time, but in my case it’s true.
Six Flash Essays from ‘Leaving Instructions’ by Gail Hosking
I offer you these two cups of air, said the rabbi under the chuppa. One for you, and one for you. Though I’ll not tell you whose is whose.
Science for Boys by Dave Wheeler
With small but steady hands, the care of a surgeon, I bring my Swiss Army knife to the center of my latest subject: a faded green rabbit of matted velveteen…
The Decision by Stephen Morison, Jr.
I’ve traveled to dangerous places before. I once hitchhiked from Amman to Baghdad, but that was before the wars and the Twin Tower flattening…
Distance by J.R. Lara
…the sound of a deer approaching is like a pulse: equal parts soft thudding clod and ground shake. For a moment, you think it might be a heartbeat. You think it might be your own.
Everett by Susan Imboden
“Hon, could you get me a cup a coffee?” asks the voice behind the curtain. It’s a remarkably strong one for someone with end-stage lung disease.
Armageddon by Lillian Brown
I haven’t attended Mass since before I got sick. It’s not that I’ve ever been a particularly religious person, but I did spend some time on the playground of the Catholic Church.
Charges by Klayton Kasperbauer
I stand over two grievously injured calves, rifle in hand⎯a lever-action .22, the only rifle we owned at the time⎯my younger brother at my side.
Americana by Sharmaine Ong
I’m picking at artificial tuna. Sticky grains of brown rice crumble beneath the prodding of my chopsticks.
