Summer 2015 - Fiction


William Morris
The Sunday Morning

A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. He was smoking a cigarette. His partner, the man with hands and a camera and a briefcase full of documents citing reasons one should purchase a photograph.....

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William Trent Pancoast
Virgil’s Boy

There were fourteen of us on the section gang. I lived in Ohio and I was the only one with a high school diploma. The other thirteen were from Fort Gay, West Virginia, and Louisa, Kentucky, two little towns separated by the Big Sandy above Williamson and Matewan.....


Caroline Swicegood
Little Gods

Lucy stood by the door with her coat in her hand. Ten minutes earlier she had whispered in Dan’s ear that it was time to go and he had nodded and started making the good-bye rounds, shaking hands and kissing cheeks of every person in the room....


William Wright
Dentist’s Appointment

The organ grinder on the beach is making deeper impressions in the sand with his heels than with his toes. It is a testament to a proper walking technique. With that sort of balance, he will get a couple of miles before his hamstrings go out....