Short Story: Ice
by John L. DeBoer Ice points form on my mustache, Vapor breath is labored. I put one cramponed foot ahead, Then rest before the next: A steady rhythm, moving up, Can’t yet see the summit.
by John L. DeBoer Ice points form on my mustache, Vapor breath is labored. I put one cramponed foot ahead, Then rest before the next: A steady rhythm, moving up, Can’t yet see the summit.
by Scott Bell Javier Lazano arrived for the interview earlier than he wanted, but later than he expected. The door hissed open and he stepped inside. Men packed the waiting room. Wall-to-wall males, configured in
by Russ Hall Forty-seven pogo sticks Showed up by error at the nursing home. Retired duffs and greying dames Cast off their walkers; one Rose up from a steel wheelchair. “Oh, brittle bones, we do
by Marie Flanigan T settled on a roof across from the arcade. He unzipped his gear bag and began assembling his rifle. In less than a minute, the gun was mounted on a tripod and
Grace through Fire by Jessica Berg is on sale June 13th – June 16th for only $0.99. During a buffalo photo shoot, wildlife photographer Nikki Lancaster snaps a picture of an odd man who later follows
A Lise Norwood Mystery by Andrew Nance It was late afternoon as I struggled with the huge picture frame, squeezing Nick’s Christmas present into the backseat of my Mini Cooper. I had found a big
By Freda Hansburg On Saturday, May 21st, the newspaper carried a small story. A self-proclaimed prophet had predicted the Apocalypse would begin today, the faithful transported to heaven. Late that afternoon when she finished her