Tiny Smuggler – by N.E. Rule

“You’ve already searched me and found nothing,” Sam says.

I Miss the Stars – by Melissa Grace Reeve

In the summer, it’s not dark until well after he should be asleep in bed.

When Will You Drink from Me Again? – by Valerie Hickey

I arrive in a midnight storm bursting from an angry cloud

Grit and Determination – by Alex Clare

The gorse bush, where my fingers were currently buried, jutted out from the slab with a brash confidence.

Ice Fishing – by Stephen Garrett

Eventually, the trees end abruptly and you are at the lake, an expanse of white, bounded by trees and ice-encrusted granite.

Her Best Friend’s Guy – by N.E. Rule

The final pic, October 31st, has the caption “He’ll be the death of me.” The photo is a close-up of Stephanie’s face.

Avocados and Ambulances – by Sarah Elise Pettigrew

Listening to Morgan playing through her pieces, I began to feel that familiar jealousy creepy into my stomach.

Split – by Jay McKenzie

She looks beyond the fire to the flat surface of the lake. There is little in the way of moon and stars tonight, but lights from the lodge on the opposite shore glimmer on the water’s skin. In her eyes, the dancing amber flames ripple.

Ditchmoss – by Andrew Shaughnessy

On the day in question, the four seniors, packing cellophane bags of caramel corn, presented themselves at the circus tent early to take their seats in the back row of the floor section adjacent to the centre ring. A family of four was in the front row, trying to settle twin four-year-old boys each seized with fear at being so close to the action. Hank studied the scene as if this were one of the circus acts.

Weary Willie – by Bethany Bruno

The band leader saw the flame first, signaling his musicians to begin playing “Stars and Stripes Forever,” or what circus folk used in code for “emergency.”