Black Haven

Displayed within, life's moments extrapolated, tangible anguish, remnants of sorrow. With haphazard intent, encapsulated vestiges scattered...

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The Yellow Birds

He guides his 1950 Massey-Harris tractor out the battered grey doors of the old barn. The rusted hinges of the barn door match the faded paint...

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Marshmallows and Wood-Ear Mushrooms

Today is the first day of my last period. I know because in three weeks, when my body prepares to do it again, I will run into a man with a knife.

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Celebrate

Marcia chose the little photography shop in North Park because one of her work colleagues had recommended it. She’d called the day before...

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The School Inspector

A newly-appointed primary school teacher got off the rattletrap at the pukka road and headed on foot to the village that nestled among the citrus orchards...

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Working the Fire Line

Working the Fire Line – Fierce Fiction by Alan MacLeod – October 21, 2018 The first time I saw her we were on the fire line digging a ditch to

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The Red Jeep

A Jeep has sat in front of our house for a month, its red boxy body catching my eye every time I walk outside.  Whoever left it, placed it equal distance...

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Cookies for Breakfast

I have learned life is short, and dying takes forever. For nearly seventy years, I’ve been a whirling dervish. I ran to and from various aspects of a life filled with perpetual...

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Hank

I am offended. It is not my fault that there is no bedroom door to close to keep the drywall sanding-dust out. No, not my fault, and to tell the truth...

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Integrative Ancestors, redux

When my daughter Sela was three, she invented a story about Bob Marley and Frederick Douglass. I put her allegory in the “Afterthoughts” of...

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What is a Plot?

Plot as a literary term is defined as the structure of events that make up the movements of a story through time; characters and settings are...

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Target Practice

My mother saw the raccoon first. She was chopping veggies in front of an open window, hoping for a breeze because it was August, and already hot and sticky...

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Shanghai Dumplings

I sat alone at the Shanghai Dumpling King on 34th Avenue in the same seat she always sat in.  I came on a Thursday afternoon the way she always did...

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Moshe

I am six years old and I go to Yeshiva and my name is Moshe. In summer there is an old woman who lives in the radiator in the living room of my apartment.

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Writing Contest: Migration, Place and Home

Submit your stories of migration and/or your sense of place, of home or lack of, and your empathy to the plight of migrants around the world.

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We grew up on fear and became heroes…

Fifty feet of nylon line and a milk jug stretched across the bay. Twenty hooks, mostly trebles, hung waiting; chicken liver and dough balls luring them in.

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A Drop Like Wet Shellac

To your villa they come-- the sketchbooks, the cameras, parade past your clay mugs and plates, black lace mantillas that covered your legs, white wooden bed...

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Recipe for Saying Goodbye

Prepare for cooking by crawling in bed with ill mother to hear the secrets of making her special cornbread. Talk about all the times you have shared her cornbread...

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