Tag Archives: Grief

Acoustics of Loss

{Jul 9, 2023}

No whisper goes unheard. Not the apologetic late arrival nor the chattering of children. We fidget in creaks. We remove and replace hymnals in scrapes and thunks. We stumble down pews with muttered condolences.… more

A Good Night

Fiction by Gurmeet Philora

{Apr 23, 2023}

Neil watches the train cars speed past. Empty seats lit in garish white fluorescent lights. Then he sees it. Or thinks he sees it. A fight. Fifteen, twenty men in a carriage. Violent action passing almost too quickly to register. The train is gone.… more

Birthday Boy

Fiction by Nathan Cover

{Jan 24, 2023}

…And a channel opened between her and me, but shit I mean to tell you I was like holding my breath as I’m cutting and she’s telling me about her and Brian and if I hadn’t been cutting her hair I would have been crying so hard, but I knew if I let it out I wouldn’t be able to finish and the channel would close…… more

I Hope You Know I Love You, Even Though

Fiction by Kim Magowan

{Aug 10, 2020}

…even though you like to win; even though you tricked me, telling me it would just be the two of us, but when we got to the restaurant, Georgia was there (and though it was the first time I ever saw her, I recognized her, her smile as sharp as a hook)…… more

We’re The Ones

Fiction by Al Kratz

{Aug 12, 2019}

True grit ain’t as easy as it looks, he said. You’ve got to get dirty if you want to live. … more

Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration

Fiction by Jennifer Todhunter

{Apr 8, 2019}

We talk about death, what it means to lose, but we don’t know how deep a loss can cut yet.… more

Unbearable Burden of Being

Essay by Ryan W. Bradley

{Mar 12, 2019}

I am bad at killing myself. When you are unsuccessful at suicide some people say you really just want attention or that it’s a cry for help. But really, sometimes you just suck at it.… more

The Fairchild

Fiction by Heather E. Goodman

{Jun 12, 2017}

The guys have always given me shit for being good with the ladies, nicknaming me Old Yeller because I’m a stray, which is the only thing they think I could have on them. They say I milk the orphan thing, get the honeys to feel sorry for me.
or
“Carnage, anyone?” asked Dina as she approached with the Fairchild’s remnants.
or your choice… more

Obituary for a Poet Heretic

Fiction by Marcus Speh

{Oct 15, 2012}

“My father was a surgeon, a shaman and a greyhound. A runner in his youth, he thought little of exercise and called himself a cultured couch potato. As a doctor he loved each patient and included them in what he called prayers… more

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