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.

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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.

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