On My Doorstep
When I unfold the paper there’s what appears to be a bunch of feathers. As I reach for them I discover it’s a bird’s wing.
When I unfold the paper there’s what appears to be a bunch of feathers. As I reach for them I discover it’s a bird’s wing.
The sand is raked perfectly into lines of dried ravines. Water in the tetsubin, ready for gyokuro.
I sigh with the tree. The tears sprout from my eyes, dripping onto the tangled roots beneath.
We’re pleased to announce the release of Issue 10 of the Dreamers Magazine, including the winners of our FLASH Contest. Get your copy now!
Lying in bed. I kiss his lips. Trying to taste the ocean I was born into but he is not home. Not even close.
Congratulations to the winners of the 2021 Dreamers Flash Fiction and Nonfiction Contest. There were so many incredible stories this year!
The hypnotic tingling draws her inward. Her mind starts humming a tune she never dreamed of singing.
My uncle once brought me fishing at his gun club, another family conspiracy to masculinize me. We were deep in what some locals call Swamp Yankee territory…
We are in my girlfriend’s apartment in Lawrence, a room of white walls and carpet crisscrossed with fresh vacuum trails…