Loralie Was Death

by Adam Lock For more than twenty years, the only time Loralie had sex was when someone died. Like when Sheila, an old school friend, was hit by a motorbike. She invented the death of a second cousin to test her theory; Arthur consoled her and they made love. The sex noises from next door begin at ten o’clock. They’re Read More

Masters

by Gale Acuff When I can’t fall asleep I think about my dog, Caesar, run over long ago – thirty-two years it’s been: I spend the night at a friend’s house. My father picks me up next day, and, halfway home, at a yield sign, where Post Oak Tritt runs into Sandy Plains, Son, your dog was hit by a Read More

Cliché in Blue

by Juliette Sebock He hates cliché, so  it makes sense that we’re anything but.   No Romeo, no Juliet,  a rose is just a rose and the violets stay purple, never blue. Then again, neither are we— blue, that is.   How could I be blue when I’m standing with you?   As a matter of fact, I’m happy as a clam.   Your Read More

Sex

by Marissa Glover Sex is a lonely word. Warning us we will not last, ex is part of the spelling. Ex-lovers, ex-friends, ex-together, sex is the punctuation at the end of our sentence – a question mark your exit answers, an exclamation point that shuts the book of our story. Sex should be misspelled. Marissa Glover is a teacher and Read More