Oubliette – by Brett Leanne

It smells of old, forgotten things:

damp earth long buried, decanted

THE LAST TIME MY HEART BROKE – By Mr Mbonisi Zikhali Zomkhonto

So we kept change for lost off-chances,

over-the-counter jinx fixes for the chipped teeth of a heart

That bit more chunk than it could chew.

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.”

Fair Field Gate – by Eric Janzen

Yet afterwards he seemed to slip away as though the world had become too much for him. How could she have left him there?

Where We Have to Go – by Lindsey Harrington

We queue up with all the semis, car carriers full of souped-up SUVs, reefers of Mexican spinach and sweet peas, empty logging trucks, and full livestock trailers. And us, with our secret cargo.

God Loves The Sinner, But Not One Like Me – by Suann Amero

Turning from the window to look at Mom and Dad, I watched as she zipped the last bag and he pulled the blankets up over the pillows in his sloppy man-version of making the bed. Mom was vibrating with anger. I had no idea why she was so upset, I was just thankful that her anger wasn’t aimed at me.

Little Cabin in the Woods – by Andrew Shaughnessy

There was no trailhead. Rather, I should say that if there was a trailhead, we couldn’t find it. I grabbed the metallic tube that my parents called a ‘torch’ to join Bill in the search. I flicked it on only to realize that, compared to Bill’s floodlight, my flashlight had the candlepower of, well, a candle.

Early Mentors – by Victoria MacDonald

She has found a great bargain, and the lady who sold the property is leaving a kitchen table, dishes, some cots, a dock and a boat.

“We’ll drive up north to see it next weekend,” she adds.

The Silent Barn – by Dawn Beecroft Teetzel

I climb the narrow staircase to the mow of my father’s barn, the wooden steps worn smooth by man. Thin, winter sunlight streams, like shards of glass through the cracks between the wallboards. My aged parents are away. My purpose here is to feed the cats, the only welcomed creatures of this barn. There are […]