A Tiny And Colorful Literary Journal

April, 2024

Four pieces by Chris Bullard

Exposed

Summer, I leave it out. In winter I bring it in. Sometimes, I see life budding on the branches. Soon, things are back to normal.

 Desir Le Vernis

“Passing through,” we said.

And they? “We have our roots here.”

“Must be nice,” we said.

“No place better,” they replied.

They stayed. We fled.

Now or Never

Lanes shut, mid-town closed, whole blocks under construction. Our Irish aunt, asked what she thinks of the burg, says, “Grand, it’ll be, when it’s finished.”

Big Apple Red

Love bobs above me like a feathered lure. I set my lips to the hook. Thrashing, I’m taken up bodily into a breathless new world.

Chris Bullard, meh, don’t ask.

Ten pieces by Len Kuntz

Glitter

The stripper’s name was Glitter. She resembled a neighbor girl I once knew, but naked. My Best Man walked away, said, “All bets are off.”

Champagne

The flute stood like a broken scarecrow, shards atop the tablecloth.  My Best Man made a toast, not a soul noticing my bloody palm.

Emerald

Our first night as newlyweds. While she snored, I counted sheep that died in mid-air. In the morning, we made fierce love, ceiling pounding.

Apricot

We were new. She had questions about our future. Honeymoon? Kids? I started to speak, but a pit in my throat blocked any answer.

Complexion

A week in, the ceiling caved. The ground shifted. A fire started down the hall. We were married and there was no going back.

Antique

While she snored, I stared at my grandmother’s ring on her finger. Even with mere moonglow seeping in, I could see we were ancient.

Maroon

We slept separate. The walls hummed or chanted. When I awoke, she was gone, to her lover’s place, so I made coffee, piping hot.

Purple

The bruise resembled Haiti, enflamed already on my cheek. When I asked about the guy, she threw a plate and it hit its mark.

Bronze

She tanned naked backyard. Didn’t care about the boys next door. The dog swirled around sniffing, almost outraged, and so I did the same.

Aubergine

We signed papers without malice. The lawyers looked glad. On the way out, I kissed her, her biting my lip like it was ham.

Six pieces by Tricia Lloyd Waller

Mimosas for Mr. and Mrs.

‘NO’ she shrieked tipping over the Crystal goblet; rich red wine spreading like forest wildfire across the starched snow-white tablecloth.
‘Mimosas were HER favorite flowers!’

Teal the Cows Come Home

Oh, baby teal stop going on so. Be more mallard!
Swimming is what we do every single day. Of course you’re not afraid of water!

I Have a Herring Problem

Smoked, kippered, brined, pickled even dried. I just adore a small-headed, streamlined, silvery, iridescent herring and so dearest reader I asked him to marry me.

Boys be Thistle-ing at Me

Oh, Mother why be boys thistle-ing at me when other maidens be given red roses?
Someday your Princess will come I promise (tongue in cheek)

Now Museum Now You Don’t

This is ridiculous! I was only here last month to view Galina brasses; So where is it now?
How can you lose a Victorian museum?

Shattered Souls

‘Your golden yellow sunflowers are magnificent!’
The sweet becardiganed gardener replies
‘All in the compost.’ as she attempts to hide the jar marked ‘Shattered Souls’

Tricia Lloyd Waller prefers fairy tale to reality and the patterns you can spin by rearranging words. She has recently had work accepted by The World of Myth and Ukiyo Literary Magazine.

Bubble Bath by L. J. Caporusso

The old woman shivered in a tub of dirty water, remembering how they used to drink red wine in a hot bubble bath before bed.

L. J. Caporusso lives in Toronto. Her writing has appeared in Blink-Ink, Molecule, Friday Flash Fiction, Little Old Lady Comedy and 50 Words Give or Take. Visit her at www.ljcaporusso.com .

January, 2024

Three pieces by Gretchen Clark

A Butterfly Moment

I thought I was safe. But kissing him in those darkened passageways wasn’t without hazard. The livewire of passion sparked. My life, incinerated.

Dark Matter

Through the orbiter windows I saw what I’d given up. Time. My own space. But there was no turning back. We’d already left the atmosphere.

Mint Candy Apple

“Swim or schnapps?”

We’re newly minted graduates, come to besot the island with our bikini bodies and rowdy youth.

“Schnapps then swim.”

Gretchen Clark is a desert dweller who enjoys taking photographs of wild horses and burros. Her work has been published in Literary Mama, Hippocampus, The MacGuffin, and New York Family Magazine, among others.

I Am Not Your Waitress by Anne Anthony

But, I will carry nourishment to your bedside, tilt spoonful after spoonful across your pale parched lips until you recover. Napkins provided. No tips expected. 

Anne Anthony once enjoyed discovering her newly chosen state of North Carolina until November 2018 when she and her husband rescued an 8-week-year old Plott Hound (the NC State dog) named Clara. Their world turned upside down…mostly in a good way. For more of her writing: linktr.ee/anchalastudio

 linktr.ee/anchalastudio

Star lit Blue by Eleanor Young

The three wise men picked the right time to visit, pre covid, pre old age, post Christmas, without the whole gang sharing everything going round.

Eleanor Young is a retired nurse, health visitor, writer and grandmother.

Legend by Allen Ashley 

I will be more than his queen. Crushed woodland berries bring a flush to my cheeks and fingernails. Lean in, kiss my hand, dear Lancelot. 

Allen Ashley previously appeared in the April 2023 issue of “Nailpolish Stories”. He is the founder of the advanced SF and Fantasy group Clockhouse London Writers. His SF chapbook “Journey to the Centre of the Onion” is due from Eibonvale Press UK in September 2023. 

Three pieces by Suzanne Cottrell

Merry & Ice

We wake to freezing rain.

Ice thickens. Stalactites lengthen,

dangle from branches and wires.

Cracks, snaps, shiver.

Time for flashlights, camp stove,

and hot chocolate.

                

Check Your Package

Thump. Spotting a box on the porch,

she scrutinizes the sender’s address- Davenport, Iowa.

Gently shakes, contents shift.

Opens to find faded photos, and cries.

               

Nude Escape

Posted sign: May encounter nude bathers.

First timers, the couple slathers on sunscreen.

Wife nudges. “Don’t gawk.”

Her husband positions his towel strategically.

She blushes.

Suzanne Cottrell’s prose has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Personal Story Publishing Projects, Prolific Press, Quillkeepers Press, Nailpolish Stories, and Parks and Points. She’s the author of three poetry chapbooks and a hybrid book, Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories (Kelsay Books). An outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, she enjoys reading, writing, knitting, hiking, Pilates, and yoga. She lives with her husband in central rural North Carolina. www.suzanneswords.com

 

Best of 2023

Best of 2023 stories were selected based on the following criteria:

-unique use of language

-breadth of story in so few words

-emotional impact

-complex and original relationship of titles to their stories

Congratulations to the writers whose work was selected for this special issue. And thank you to every reader, submitter and contributor of 2023. Nailpolish Stories, a Tiny and Colorful Literary Journal wishes you an abundance of good health and a most happy 2024.

from January

Rogue Noir by Tyler D. Zaremba

A friend and classmate, late to a party.

That night, a concrete truck, a hospital.

The next day: an empty chair forever next to me.

Tyler works as a misanthropic attorney and lives in central Texas with his spouse. He despises bios and refuses to write anymore about himself. 

from April

Coastal Coutre by Suzanne Cottrell

Crimson ribbons swirl and discolor the Gulf waters.

Beauty succumbs to sulfurous stench.

“So much for our vacation,” beachgoers

hold their noses and retreat inland.

Suzanne Cottrell writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction, which have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She’s the author of three poetry chapbooks and a hybrid book, Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories. She is an outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, who is still riding the writing wave. Follow her journey at www.suzanneswords.com.

from October

Red is Red by Alastair Millar

Blood on Solstice snow, black on white in the moonlight, as we appease Winter’s Gods. Afterwards, mulled wine, and satisfaction at an obligation done well.

Alastair Millar enjoys good books, bad puns, coffee and travelling. His short fiction can be found at http://linktr.ee/alastairmillar.

October, 2023

Two pieces by M. Schwartz

Cinnamon

Cinnamon was what I mislabeled on the blank canister of rat poisoning. Unfortunately, the discovery was not made until after the PTA autumn bake sale.


Love and Devotion

As the elephant takes her last breath, her baby stands vigil over the body. He quietly watches for predators; he patiently waits until she awakens.


M. Schwartz‘s work has been featured in the 5-7-5 Haiku Journal and PoetryNook. She currently publishes The Author’s Source.

Red is Red by Alastair Millar

Blood on Solstice snow, black on white in the moonlight, as we appease Winter’s Gods. Afterwards, mulled wine, and satisfaction at an obligation done well.

Alastair Millar
enjoys good books, bad puns, coffee and travelling. His short fiction can be found at https://linktr.ee/alastairmillar.

July, 2023

Lunar Tan by Alane Ford

In forty-one years my doctor never once chided me on my lunar tan. One promotion with sixty hour weeks. Now I am on supplements. Damn.

Alane Cameron Ford is the host of Death Club Radio, the lyricist for the punk band Crack Fox, and allergic to Sulfa drugs.

Two pieces by Rani Nimmo

Malodies

I loved a guy who sang. I didn’t mind it sharp or natural, but I knew we were through the day his song went flat.

Mis-step

“Come here, come here,” he whispered coyly and smiled the smile I love. His arms outstretched he walked right past and kissed the guy behind.

Rani Nimmo has had poetry published in magazines in the countries and continents she loves: UK, Asia and the Caribbean. She has released three poetry collections and has a lyrical presence on Twitter and Instagram, along with her own blog.

Fairy Dust by Sarah Davies

She always wanted to be a fairy, dressing up in ethereal wings and tutus. Now she is, as I sprinkle fairy dust onto her grave.

Sarah loves English, especially writing poetry and short stories. Other interests of her’s include athletics, the horror genre and cat cafés.

Two pieces by Edmund Fines

Tickle My France-y

She claimed she was French but sounded German. Regardless, I awaited her unconditional surrender. When it didn’t transpire, I fled for Istanbul. Take that, mademoiselle.

Barefoot In Barcelona

Painted silver from head to toe, the human statue stood motionless on La Rambla. I dropped a Euro to watch him move. He didn’t disappoint.

Edmund Fines is a returning Nailpolish Stories author. He has had short stories published with Acta Victoriana, Smoking Pen Press, and Shoreline of Infinity.

April, 2023

Ballerina by Allen Ashley

Beautifully balanced. A majestic solo twirl to Swan Lake. I am the prima.  

Then the tinkling music stops, as do I. The box lid closes.  

Allen Ashley has twice previously appeared in issues of Nailpolish Stories. Recent publications include poems in “Young Ravens Literary Review” and the anthology “Musings of the Muses” (Brigids Gate Press, 2022) as well as several works in “The World of Myth.” He is the founder of Clockhouse London Writers. 

Clarity by Maxx Lillo 

He’d leaned over to spit into the countertop wastebasket when he saw it. Among the paper towels was a bottle of whiskey. He knew then. 


Maxx lives in Ohio and spends his time wandering the empty spaces. 

Two pieces by Farah Ali

Worth a Pretty Penne

Delicious aromas wafted through the house.

‘I made your favorite.’ She filled a plate. ‘Kill someone for me.’

Saliva flooded his mouth. ‘Anything for you.’

Bee the Change

So honey cravings and crawling over flowerbeds weren’t the worst side effects of swallowing a bumblebee, she thought, yanking out another clump of striped fuzz.

Farah Ali lives in the UK and writes fiction and poetry, with a particular interest in haiku and other short forms. She has been published in various poetry journals and her supernatural Deerleap Hollow series is available for purchase from Amazon. When she is not writing, reading or researching, Farah can be found practicing yoga, enjoying good food and spending time in nature.

Coastal Couture by Suzanne Cottrell

Crimson ribbons swirl and discolor the Gulf waters.

Beauty succumbs to sulfurous stench.

“So much for our vacation,” beachgoers

hold their noses and retreat inland.

Suzanne Cottrell writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction, which have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She’s the author of three poetry chapbooks and a hybrid book, Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories. She is an outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, who is still riding the writing wave. Follow her journey at www.suzanneswords.com.

Black Cherry Chutney by Sherri White

Cooks, check your crates. Your ingredients are:

Cardamom

Tomatoes

Cherries

Long Pig

20 minutes on the clock. Remember, you really don’t want to get chopped!

Sheri lives in Jefferson, Maryland with her husband Chris, their daughter Lauren, their three black cats (Lucy, Sadie, and Vlad), and two dogs (Dobie and Josie). Their other daughters Sarah and Becca fled the scene last year.

In accordance with unspoken Maryland state laws, there is always a can of Old Bay in her cupboard, and she visits local breweries as often as possible.

https://www.facebook.com/sheriw1965

January, 2023

Rogue Noir by Tyler D. Zaremba 

A friend and classmate, late to a party.

That night, a concrete truck, a hospital. 

The next day: an empty chair forever next to me.

Tyler works as a misanthropic attorney and lives in central Texas with his spouse. He despises bios and refuses to write anymore about himself. 

Fade to Black by Debbie Feit

Proofread the headstone today. Everything was spelled correctly. Line spacing was even. Font usage consistent. Only error found—that it was you in the ground.

Debbie Feit is an accidental mental health advocate, unrelenting Jewish mother and author of The Parent’s Guide to Speech and Language Problems (McGraw-Hill) in addition to numerous texts to her children that often go unanswered. Her work has appeared in The New York TimesKvellerSheKnowsInsider, The Aurora Journal, Emerge Literary Journal and Words & Whispers, as well as on her mother’s bulletin board, with forthcoming pieces in Passengers Journal and Five Minutes. She is at work on a novel whose completion she some days fears may also be fictitious. You can read about her thoughts on mental health issues, her life as a writer and her husband’s inability to see crumbs on the kitchen counter on Instagram @debbiefeit or at debbiefeit.com.

Two pieces by Stephanie Mordi

Stay the Night

I hook my leg around her arm. She turns to me, and I smile. I gesture at an unfinished bag of chips. She smiles back.

I’m Not Really a Waitress by Stephanie Mordi

I tie an apron around my waist, black skirt barely grazing my upper thighs, white shirt tight against my breasts. I did come to serve.

Stephanie Mordi is a proud, not so proud Nigerian. She writes as a hobby but hopes to make a career out of it someday. She enjoys eating, reading and sleeping the most—emphasis on the eating. She is yet to publish any works, but has a large and private collection of short stories and poetry

Two pieces by Tricia Lloyd Waller

Golden Hour in Green Park by Tricia Lloyd Waller

In pouring rain the last fairy crouches beneath the willow munching pickled gherkins from a plastic pot wondering who pulled the plug on golden hour?

The Mermaid’s Fin

The child gently places the Mermaid fin between the Fairy wing and the Unicorn horn stands and wipes the knife clean on her gingham dress.

Tricia Lloyd Waller has always loved telling stories since she first learnt to speak. She recently won the prestigious Pen to Print poetry competition and has had work published in Margate Bookie, World of Myth and The Poet.

Best of 2022

Best of 2022 stories were selected based on the following criteria:

-unique use of language

-breadth of story in so few words

-emotional impact

-complex and original relationship of the titles to their stories

Congratulations to the writers whose work was selected for this special issue. And thank you to every submitter, contributor and reader of 2022. Nailpolish Stories, a Tiny and Colorful Literary Journal wishes you an abundance of good health and a most happy 2023.

From January:

I’m Not Really A Waitress by Stephanie Mordi

I tie an apron around my waist, black skirt barely grazing my upper thighs, white shirt tight against my breasts. I did come to serve.

Stephanie Mordi is a proud, not so proud Nigerian. She writes as a hobby but hopes to make a career out of it some day. She enjoys eating, reading and sleeping the most—emphasis on the eating. She is yet to publish any works but has a large and private collection of short stories and poetry.

Two pieces by Tyrean Martinson

My Pointe Exactly

Madam crosses the room, adjusts a dancer’s posture.

The music begins again.

“And one, and two, and STOP.”

“Try it again, like I showed you.”

Passion for Dance

I stretch my feet, roll my shoulders.

Old injuries crackle inside.

I place my hands on the barre, ignore the pain.

My soul demands release.

Tyrean Martinson is a word hunter. She forages for words both sweet and tart in Washington State. Find her online at her blog: https://tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com/ Find her books at most online stores. 

From April:

Barely There by Chris Bullard

We let the gate guard know one crypt was open. He laughed, “Sometimes they get out.”

We never took the graveyard short cut again.

A native of Florida, Chris Bullard lives in Philadelphia. He received his B.A. in English from the University of Pennsylvania and his M.F.A. from Wilkes University. Grey Book Press published Continued, a poetry chapbook, in 2020 and Moonstone Press recently published Going Peaceably to the Obsidian Knife, his chapbook of environmentally themed poetry. Main Street Rag expects to publish his poetry chapbook, Florida Man, early next year. He bites his nails a lot, so he rarely wears nail polish.

Aperitif by Clarissa McFairy

He knew his wife loved cats but recoiled when she grew whiskers. “This is just the aperitif,” she purred, dropping the mouse at his feet.

Clarissa McFairy lives in Cape Town, South Africa. She writes short stories and poetry for anthologies at home and abroad. Her poem, La Mia Musa was a Vox Poetica 2012 Best of the Net nominee. Her poetry book, Strange Bedfellows published in the USA is available at Amazon.com. Clarissa says she writes as the muse grabs her and whirls her around the dance floor of life.

Two pieces by Stacey K.

Sheer Luck

Metal crashes. Plastic cracks. Airbags deploy. 

Skin warm from sun rays radiating through broken glass.

Her eyes flicker open. Separation of light into a spectrum.

Got it Golding on

Shine off the tiny buckle as big hands fumble. 

Nerves soar, escalating passion in his heart.

Stilettos are the last to come off. She’s beautiful.

Stacey K. is a contemporary romance author. She writes “sweet heat” love stories based on realistic healthy relationships that bolster someone emotionally and support their life goals. She loves strong female characters and sweet, devoted male characters. Stacey grew up strongly influenced by her mother’s love for reading historical romance and belief in library access for all. She holds a master’s degree in molecular biology and is employed as a supply chain product leader within the pharmaceutical industry. She makes Pennsylvania her home with her husband, Teddy, and their large, blended family.

From July:

You Don’t Know Jacques by Kelley Stroup

Lounging on a park bench, idly toeing gravel, he picks a speck of dried blood from beneath a ragged nail. He’d like to introduce himself. 

Kelley Stroup is a semi-reformed nail polish hoarder and occasional writer who indulges in lightheartedness every fifth Sunday in odd-numbered years. 

Two pieces by Holly Ariel Kavanagh

Sequins on the rocks

I grieve the glitter on the skerry. Hot pink hotpants glint like a mermaid’s tail beneath the sea foam. God, you were such a catch. 

Imported bubbly

The young lady observed Earth from a window seat. She raised a glass for more champagne, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ like the floating bubbles.

Holly Ariel Kavanagh is an art history graduate currently living in London. She loves crazy make-up, 80s new wave, and all things horror. Her short attention span means her stories are rarely finished.

You Up? By Victor Fisher

I’m violently awoken in ice cold sweat, alone in my house.

Listening to tiptoe footsteps, too terrified to confront a burglar…

and her crinkle mouse.

Victor Fisher is an aspiring speculative fiction writer and physics student. He lives in Manitoba, Canada with two obnoxiously loud cats. 

Two pieces by Dan Sicoli

to the finish lime

after mixing that classic
hemingway daiquiri
with such panache

shaking rocks
topping her perfection
with a wafer-thin
lime float

i drank every word
she wrote

all your dreams in vending machines

offering one the control
of dreams
for fulfillment
like
selecting snacks
from a dispenser

would we ever again
bother to step
from our night sheets

Dan Sicoli’s poems have appeared in numerous litmags and anthologies including Angel Rust, Beatnik Cowboy, Blue Collar Review, Book of Matches, Loud Coffee Press, Sleet, San Pedro River Review, and Sheila-Na-Gig. Some weekends you might find him in a local gin mill banging an old Gibson with a garage rock band in and around Niagara Falls, NY. <www.pw.org/directory/writers/dan_sicoli>

From October:

Two pieces by Edmund Fines

I Have A Herring Problem

They said brennivín paired well with herring dishes. And they said there weren’t any polar bears in Iceland. Yet here I am, drunk and running.

The Cows Come Home

Behind a Bangalore market stall, docile beasts grazed upon a garbage heap. A motorized rickshaw stopped behind them. They flicked their tails and continued eating.

Edmund Fines is a returning Nailpolish Stories author. He has had short stories published with Acta Victoriana, Smoking Pen Press, and Shoreline of Infinity.

Two pieces by Erin Mackensie

Sea the future

Am I a poet,

or just a woman

with a sickness

that guts me like a fish

and splashes my innards

out in pretty lines?

Center of the you-niverse

“I’m looking for something casual,” he says. 

“I’d cut off my ear and give it to you.” 

Delete delete delete. 

I text back, 

“me too.”

Erin Mackenzie is a self-taught poet who has finally shed the belief that poetry is only made meaningful and worthy by degrees in English literature or creative writing. A future mental health professional, Erin is a graduate of the University of Georgia, and a soon-to-be graduate of Louisiana State University with a Masters in Social Work. In her free time, she loves reading collections from female confessional poets, listening to vinyl records at an inappropriate volume, smothering her cat, Lolita, with love, and baking unsolicited pies for her friends. She is working on her first collection of poetry, bits and pieces of which you can read on her poetry instagram @ErinInVerse.

Lose your Lingerie by Len Saculla 

The washing machine ate odd socks. When it mysteriously gobbled Jill’s pink bra, she got annoyed, stuck her arm right in. Felt the inexorable pull…

Len Saculla has most recently been published online in “The World of Myth.” Prior to that, he has been a Pushcart nominee during a spell of being regularly published in anthologies from Kind of a Hurricane Press. He has also been highly placed in a couple of literary competitions.  

October, 2022

  

Two pieces by Edmund Fines

 

I Have A Herring Problem

They said brennivín paired well with herring dishes. And they said there weren’t any polar bears in Iceland. Yet here I am, drunk and running.

 

The Cows Come Home

Behind a Bangalore market stall, docile beasts grazed upon a garbage heap. A motorized rickshaw stopped behind them. They flicked their tails and continued eating.

 

Edmund Fines is a returning Nailpolish Stories author. He has had short stories published with Acta Victoriana, Smoking Pen Press, and Shoreline of Infinity.

 

Licorice Canary by Doug Hawley

In the 1950s I noticed the asphalt melting on a summer day and smelled fresh yellow curb paint while feeling brain cells die.  Not now.

Doug has written many things.  He is included in analogies “Strange Religion” and Dark Dossier #68 just out, and “Pure Slush Lifespan – Work to appear”.  When not writing, he eats, drinks, sleeps, and walks.  The former actuary lives with editor Sharon and decorative cat Kitzhaber in Oregon USA.

 

Four pieces by Erin Mackenzie

 Sea the future

 

Am I a poet,

or just a woman

with a sickness

that guts me like a fish

and splashes my innards

out in pretty lines?

 

Moonrise

He shrugs. “I’m a lone wolf. I can’t be tamed, you’ll see.”

I smile. “Darling I hung the moon, and you’ll soon howl for me.”

 

Perfect storm

 He whispers, “You’re fragile, let me take care of you.” 

I roll my eyes. 

He doesn’t know that my parents named me after a hurricane.

 

Center of the you-niverse

 “I’m looking for something casual,” he says. 

“I’d cut off my ear and give it to you.” 

Delete delete delete. 

I text back, 

“me too.”

 

Erin Mackenzie is a self-taught poet who has finally shed the belief that poetry is only made meaningful and worthy by degrees in English literature or creative writing. A future mental health professional, Erin is a graduate of the University of Georgia, and a soon-to-be graduate of Louisiana State University with a Masters in Social Work. In her free time, she loves reading collections from female confessional poets, listening to vinyl records at an inappropriate volume, smothering her cat, Lolita, with love, and baking unsolicited pies for her friends. She is working on her first collection of poetry, bits and pieces of which you can read on her poetry instagram @ErinInVerse.

 

 

Serene Green by Stacey Komosinski

Lush greenery flanked the winding road.

The mountains and fresh air beckoned me.

I craved quiet. I begged for peace.

A permanent vacation was required.

 

Stacey Komosinski is a contemporary romance author. She writes “sweet heat” love stories based on realistic healthy relationships that bolster someone emotionally and support their life goals. She loves strong female characters and sweet, devoted male characters. Stacey grew up strongly influenced by her mother’s love for reading and belief in library access for all. She holds a master’s degree in molecular biology and is employed as a supply chain product leader within the pharmaceutical industry. She makes Pennsylvania her home with her husband, Teddy, and their large, blended family.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m My Own Hero by Peggy Gerber

She said I wasn’t smart enough for college. So I went.

That I’d never be a writer. So I wrote. 

I say, “Believe in yourself.”

 

Peggy Gerber began a writing career in order to fill the void created by becoming an empty nester. Since then she has been published in many online magazines and anthologies.  It seems to be working out for her.

 

Lose your Lingerie by Len Saculla 

The washing machine ate odd socks. When it mysteriously gobbled Jill’s pink bra, she got annoyed, stuck her arm right in. Felt the inexorable pull…

 

Len Saculla has most recently been published online in “The World of Myth”. Prior to that, he has been a Pushcart nominee during a spell of being regularly published in anthologies from Kind of a Hurricane Press. He has also been highly placed in a couple of literary competitions.  

 

Rendezvous by Jan Cronos

Blind, she stumbles in the cemetery.
Losing her balance, she’s falling into an open grave.
The arms that save her are a corpse’s cold embrace.

Author lives in NYC under the pen name
Jan Cronos. In that world, strange things
are common.

 

 

July, 2022

You Don’t Know Jacques by Kelley Stroup

Lounging on a park bench, idly toeing gravel, he picks a speck of dried blood from beneath a ragged nail. He’d like to introduce himself. 

Kelley Stroup is a semi-reformed nail polish hoarder and occasional writer who indulges in lightheartedness every fifth Sunday in odd-numbered years. 

Two pieces by Holly Ariel Kavanagh

Sequins on the rocks

I grieve the glitter on the skerry. Hot pink hotpants glint like a mermaid’s tail beneath the sea foam. God, you were such a catch. 

Imported bubbly

The young lady observed Earth from a window seat. She raised a glass for more champagne, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ like the floating bubbles.

Holly Ariel Kavanagh is an art history graduate currently living in London. She loves crazy make-up, 80s new wave, and all things horror. Her short attention span means her stories are rarely finished.

You Up? by Victor Fisher

I’m violently awoken in ice cold sweat, alone in my house.

Listening to tiptoe footsteps, too terrified to confront a burglar…

and her crinkle mouse
Victor Fisher is an aspiring speculative fiction writer and physics student. He lives in Manitoba, Canada with two obnoxiously loud cats. 

Two pieces by Dan Sicoli

to the finish lime

after mixing that classic
hemingway daiquiri
with such panache

shaking rocks
topping her perfection
with a wafer-thin
lime float

i drank every word
she wrote

all your dreams in vending machines

offering one the control
of dreams
for fulfillment
like
selecting snacks
from a dispenser

would we ever again
bother to step
from our night sheets

Dan Sicoli’s poems have appeared in numerous litmags and anthologies including Angel Rust, Beatnik Cowboy, Blue Collar Review, Book of Matches, Loud Coffee Press, Sleet, San Pedro River Review, and Sheila-Na-Gig. Some weekends you might find him in a local gin mill banging an old Gibson with a garage rock band in and around Niagara Falls, NY. <www.pw.org/directory/writers/dan_sicoli>