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SuzAnne C. Cole: Playing Computer Solitaire (Nonfiction)
I admit it. It's an addiction. Day after day I sit at the computer telling myself I'm just warming up, just loosening my fingers and brain, so writing will come more easily. I set myself time...
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Thomas Reynolds: Demolition Derby Car (Poetry)
It sits in tall weedslike a crushed, jagged brain.No beat or synapse pulseswhere it sits behind the shed.All is unnaturally calm the wayoperating rooms are after everythinghas been tried, the surgeon...
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Lowan Lykaios: Black and Orange Clear (Fiction)
He knew enough not to blame the article—article’d be a cinch in the right moonlight, his synapses firing in just the right wild spontaneous rhythm to the right sort of sound. And sound he could help....
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David Bersell: The Magic Rock (Nonfiction)
The Rock no longer opens its front gate. Rust curls up the white iron and highlights the block letters, ROCKINGHAM PARK, that stretch across the top. The gate used to be the horse trailer entrance, but...
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Malon Edwards: Rainbows and Unicorns (Fiction)
Trust me, I’m here.I wish you could see me, too. But like I told you before; this is my super power.You’re not crazy. And neither am I. I’m not just a voice in your head. I exist. I’m real. I’ve...
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J. Spinazzola: The Archer's Tale (Fiction)
He stood guard from the watchtower as the two moons made their slow orbit in the distance. The faint sound they made through the sky reminded him of hearing a boy in a neighboring village drag his...
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Carol Reid: Sport (Fiction)
Having optimized her stats to a round one thousand in the game of unrequited love she develops an interest in passing along her pain to the undeserving.First draft pick: that rookie from work who...
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Jessi Lewis: Huckers (Fiction)
The paddle is the force that brings the rookie kayaker back up to the surface. You’re meant to sit upside down underwater when the skirt traps you in your seat, and then in a nice fluid motion, reach...
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Why I Write: Holly M. Wendt
Between the middle of May and the end of June, I was in four countries on two different continents, including Romania, Germany, eight American states, and four Canadian provinces. My watch and my body...
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Pete Anderson: Talent, Loss & Triumph: The Remarkable Life of JT Townsend...
The mind is its own place, and in it selfCan make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.Paradise Lost Book I, ll. 254-255The most powerful force in nature, the mind is capable of transcendence. It is...
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Joe Mills: Midway (Fiction)
Editor’s Note: This is the first of two flash fiction pieces by Joe Mills. Look for the next one Aug. 12.Sometimes after Payton was tackled, he’d end up on his back, waiting for the defenders to get...
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M. G. Moscato: Is a Baseball Card Set like a Bottle of Scotch? (Nonfiction)
Late one night I wondered: Is a baseball card set like a bottle of Scotch whisky? Now of course that depends on the card’s issue (its manufacturer and year), just as it would for the bottle. Before I...
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Liz Dolan: Take Me Out (Poetry)
My father checked the stats in The Daily News, glasses askewon his slender nose, listening to Red Barber's southern thrum,rich with magnolias' scent and Mississippi raft lollin',"They're...
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Joe Mills: Joe Theismann's Leg (Fiction)
We knew he liked her. A lot. But we didn’t know how much until he told us he was meeting her on a Monday night. In the middle of the season. A Monday night against the Giants. The Giants. And it wasn’t...
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Why I Write: Kirsten Clodfelter
It is one of the greatest acts of empathy to tell someone else’s story. We meet stories every day—and, at least for me, many of them are still so surprising. I believe strongly that when we aren’t sure...
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Alice Lowe: Seventh Inning Stretch (Nonfiction)
Editor's Note: "Seventh Inning Stretch" was first published in Hobart's 2011 Baseball Issue.America’s Game: It is the place where memory gathers. – Walt Whitman 1.My mother, Brooklyn-born and...
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Zarina Zabrisky: Giants and Monsters (Fiction)
“The Giants won!” The three boys settled in the car, pushing each other. Their lunchboxes smelled of stale bagels and something sweet and musky, maybe all the Halloween candies they had already...
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Coop Lee: Skateboard Gothic (Poetry)
son spreads knee blood into sandbar &/orsidewalk chalk.mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphaltor not.of god & country.soggy breadwithin lunch-bag; snackpack readied.he skates.the...
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Chris Wiewiora: Skatespotting (Nonfiction)
On the way home from church Mom stopped at University Surf and Skate shop for me. I got out of her van in the plaza, and she drove over to the corner McDonald’s drive-thru. Floor to ceiling posters...
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Coop Lee: Ballad of the Sad Rodeo Clown (Poetry)
p.small { line-height: 1; } p.big { line-height: 2; } instead of cutting tongue, runaway & chase dreams.this existence;this you;this dream: bull riding.beg for your hand to be tied to...
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