Winter 2013 - Fiction

Wayne Caldwell
Donation Jar

Like my grandmother said, “You never know what a day will bring.” That’s the gospel truth. This morning I woke at five, a good half hour before normal, head full of naughtiness even though I’d...

Spencer Deck
High Knuckle Fades

All through the opening round, Alex paced through the motions mindlessly—reciting to Teddy the depths, widths, and slopes of greens, approximating wind directions and speeds, cleaning grooves with shards of broken tees, drying grips, raking bunkers, ...

Susan Dickerson
Fried Yucca

George sits across from me, leaning forward, his plate on the wrought iron table outside Cantina Burgues still holding...

Wanda Fries
The Vineyard

Mornings Dr. Wyatt stands barefoot in his kitchen, watching the sun rise over his vineyard.  The grape vines stretch, row upon row...

Marion de Booy Wentzien
Choke

Choke was hauling melons from Nogales when he saw...