Within the chapel there is a hum, a soft whisper, as a congregation of hymn sheets are placed upon pew backs.
Your Sunday-slap Hands by Lisa Tippings
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Magazine
The Tale of the Costume Maker by Steve Carr
His fingers are long and slender, pale as chalk dust, and thin as icicles, hanging from the bare branches of a dying bush.
Famadihana by Gaynor Kane
Six years, three hundred and sixty-four days / since we laid the long wreath of white lilies, / roses and spray carnations on the mound of soil
Immeasurable Greatness by Rachel A. G. Gilman
It started when I was eight years old, with my tonsils. The year before I had them taken out, I was ghastly white, except my nose, which was usually bright red.
Water Lilies by Kersten Christianson
Tonight / I Facebook / under-share / a million / thoughts / imploding / in my brain
Get Lost by Anonymous
Donning stripy knee-length socks, three-quarter length trousers, turquoise high heels, a purple vest top, no bra (despite being well-endowed), and yellow sunnies, I think I look the bees an’ees.
Safe as Houses by Sadie Nott
Paula stands at the new basin. The empty space behind her is where the old bath used to be. She’s suddenly unsure what the frosted window beside her conceals or reveals
Conjoined* by Erin Vance
The elder sister / eats a bloated honeybee, / pinches it between her fingers, / brings it to her lips, and sucks / it down her throat, stinger / and all.
Birthday* by Erin Vance
You said that thirty was the new / twenty / just like love was the new / war. / I failed to see the difference before.
Third Sector by David Bone
We’re the third sector. Oh, you’re not familiar with us. That’s a shame. You see, we do a lot of work that would have previously been done by the state