A Tiny And Colorful Literary Journal

Posts tagged ‘Monica Crumback’


Artful Dodger by Jennifer Falkner

The shoes are Manolos and the scarf is Hermes. But the purse–Balenciaga—carries almost no cash. And the credit cards are too easily traced.

Jennifer Falkner’s work has appeared in The First Line, Paragon Journal and Flashquake.  Last year, she received the Reader’s Choice Award for a story appearing in Fiction Fix.  Links to these and other published stories can be found at jenniferfalkner.blogspot.ca



Secret Story by Pamela Hill

She runs barefoot through sand and giggles and chases tumbleweed as it dances toward the dunes. Then the wind shifts, and the tumbleweed chases her. 

Pamela Hill loves to write.


Skirting the Issue by Danielle Fouquette

 “We should talk.”


For him it became the roots, twisting over rocks toward the bank.

For her, the trunk, leaning recklessly over the current.

Danielle Fouquette has been preparing to be a writer all her life.

Two pieces by Monica Crumback

 Tickled Pink

It was just a shirt

on a hanger

at a charity store.

But when she wears it

off her shoulder,

it becomes so much more.



Not exactly.

Not mint green, lime.

Like a splash in your beer

or the zest of life

sunk deep in a decadent

key lime pie.

Monica Crumback’s essays and poetry have been published in numerous print and online publications, including Brain,Child: The Magazine for Thinking Mothers, Skirt Magazine, and Vox Poetica.

Otherwise Engaged by Joanna Owen

You’re in white silk taffeta.  He’s in a rented tux.  I wear a bridesmaid gown and wish you’d slip the ring on my finger instead.
Joanna Owen is a full-time nurse and part-time writer living on the coast of southwest Florida.

Lincoln Park After Dark by Alina Pleskova

I paused after we passed each other, just in case. Checked my pulse and found it steady, signaling too slight a danger to bother. Yawn.

Alina Pleskova lives in Philadelphia by way of Moscow (she doesn’t have an accent, but is happy to humor you with a pretty decent imitation upon request.) She is the Poetry Editor for Apiary Magazine, & can usually be found frantically running across the city in stilettos, determined to dispel the commonly-held belief that poets are never on time. No such luck yet..

Three pieces by Lisa Nielsen

 Sketchy character

You are just an outline, a deliberate rough draft, but you mirror my discontent so I will tiptoe, like an acrobat on your chalky silhouette

Secret story

You, adrift in a car I don’t know/ me, behind the door/ playing safe with an elusive faith/ lighting a candle to follow your shadow

Gossamer White

I wish I had the audacity to shimmer in a train of stars, but I can’t fight the tenacious debris of rocks and broken glass.

Lisa Nielsen is a single mom living in Staten Island, using poetry to dodge laundry and yard work.

Bring Me the Moon by Rachel Alday

“Be wary, letting a literal-minded woman fall in love with you,” the lunar emperor said. “‘Beyond the fields we know’ is closer than it was.”

Rachel Alday is a cook who lives down in the hurricane state.

Six pieces by Jessica Tsuzuki


They were her favorite jeans—tight on the curves but loose past the knee, leaving just enough space for the hunting knife in her boot.

San Francisco Sparkle

The vampire pop queen sanguine in all aspects beseeches the crowd . Love me,mortals. Through red eyes that hint of gold, she leaves us mesmerized.


Blinding chunks of funky glitter cling to her frail form. “Nothing can outshine my discoball headlights.” With heavily accented alienation, tonight she owns the world.

Matte Aqua

Animal, vegetable, or mineral? None. Pure hard metal with a candy coated shell. She’ll give you her number, and hack your accounts in your sleep.

Yellow It’s Me

A bright morning howdy form your obnoxious neighbor, Jane. Sunflower petals scatter down the hall after her, showing where she’s going; knowing where she’s been.

Plugged-in Plum

Pirated on a private IP, I find myself solemnly hacked, staring at the once idle screen, now dancing to the beat of distant digit drumming.

Jessica Tsuzuki has amazing adventures, mostly in her head.



Love Me Tender byDan Hart

After school, I douse my nails with polish remover and rip the rainbow freedom rings from my neck.

At home, I must not be me.

Dan is an engineer working, reading, and hiking in Silicon Valley, where he is happy to be himself.



Smoke by Bruce Harris

The trouble began with three words, “Have a light?” There were matches in the ashtray. He grabbed one. Now, he trades cigarettes to stay alive.

Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman.


Rambunctious by Alina Yudkevich

Heathcliff’s bones were made of rubber, according to his mother. He held his breath when she walked by, so she wouldn’t see his toes wiggle. 

Alina Yudkevich is a 17th grader at the University of Georgia studying English and Film Studies. She works part-time at a particle accelerator laboratory, and will be very embarrassed if she accidentally ends the world. 


I’m a Rich Girl by Mitchell Sommers

There’s no “reading of the will.”  That’s just bad movies. Only a check, all my father had. I clutch it, not crying, not yet, anyway.

Mitchell Sommers is an attorney in Lancaster and Ephrata, PA. He is the fiction editor of Philadelphia Stories.  He received his law degree from Penn State, Dickinson School of Law, and his MFA from the University of New Orleans.

Two pieces by Monica Crumback

Eggplant Frost

It’s like Gettysburg behind the garage, thanks to all the frost. Late October. Here come leaves, rakes, then Christmas. I pray it killed the wasps.

Red, Red

It’s not a color so much as a banner painted on her mouth. Nude is useless, like pink and blush. Red says she’s growing up.

Monica Crumback‘s essays have been published in numerous print and online publications, including Brain,Child: The Magazine for Thinking Mothers, Skirt Magazine, and Vox Poetica.

Three pieces by Lisa Nielsen

in a flash

you were miles gone before anyone noticed.

a flash of light,

a moratorium on what light really means

and shadows turning bitter in your wake



you were too amused to catch on

that I was predisposed to lavish

love on scented lips, to sway my hips

and ask for change


strike a pose

head to knees

fingertips to toes,

I spy through my legs like curtains,

and take my breath for granted.

today, forgetting is my conciliation prize.


Lisa Nielsen is a single mother living in Staten Island, using poetry to make sense of the world.


Varnished by Mary Nelson

Diagnosis for Narcissa: Allergic to her own image. Therefore avoid light. No mirrors. Reaction from Narcissa: Asks for stronger Benedryl. Opens compact and checks make-up.

Mary Nelson is an octogenarian who has been writing ever since college days having published short stories and two historical novels. But she’s not above delving into some humorous challenges such as this one. She believes that without a sense of humor the creative process is minus a powerful asset.


Three pieces by David Ellis Dickerson

Pearl Drop

Heartstruck, she fainted in the opera’s loge. Her necklace spilled. Today, children discovering marbles underfoot cup them to their ears to hear “una furtiva lagrima.”


In the middle of her jump, she paused, hovering, undecided about whether or not to land. Both milieux have good arguments. For now, air wins.

Carry On

Slide the buckle. Flotation device. In the event. The compartment overhead. Secure yours first. Assist your neighbor. No smoking. Tampering or disabling. Thanks for choosing.

David Ellis Dickerson is a regular contributor to public radio’s “This American Life” and the author of the memoir “House of Cards.” He could not resist this magazine’s concept.

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