
Monsters, Child’s Play, & Bring the Nightmare to Bed Michelle Holland __________ Monsters Are monsters imaginary, the ones in the dark closet, behind the musty winter jackets, the ones just beyond the fence line where the brush and debris make it impossible to run, should the need arise, arms flailing,…
Read MoreVictoria de Benedicty is a multi-media artist, writer, and musician from central Florida. Victoria’s interests lie in what can be represented in an image and what an image inherently represents. Her work explores polarity, absurdism, & surrealism. To Victoria, colors and patterns embody vibrational waves that are feelings, themselves, an…
Read MoreSummer Love Cassondra Windwalker __________ He was a simple man, with simple hungers. In winter, he ate smoked and salted fish and popcorn. Come spring, he gathered fireweed shoots and dandelion flowers for fresh salads. And in late summer – oh, that was the best of seasons. All…
Read MoreDear Anonymous Cryptid Photographer William Hawkins __________ Item. A letter to the editor published in the Tampa Tribune in which an anonymous woman details an encounter with an unidentified creature which appeared in her backyard, crouched and made ‘woomp’ noises as it stole apples from her back porch. The letter…
Read Morenothing to fear M. Caroline McCaulay __________ Since Arthur learned the formula to sleeping through the night was a dose of benzo and a G&T that was heavy on the T, it was the noise that became his most supreme irritant. The relentless hic hic hic.…
Read MorePumpkin Ash and Cypress Knees Katherine Quevedo __________ Bald cypress thrusts its knees in knobby little spires just above the waterline. Pumpkin ash bulges at the base of its trunk, engorged with brackish drink. By moonlight, I can almost discern the red spikes of cardinal flowers craning their necks alongside…
Read MoreFeu-Follet Danelle Lejeune __________ This trace is what’s left of us. Look for the weight of light, the particles falling down like crumbs. The mass of the universe is choking, leaving lines, chain burns, in my flesh. These pieces of you, pieces of me, we are stardust. The music of…
Read MoreLore of Swamp Girl Ryleigh Wann __________ LORE OF SWAMP GIRL I wasn’t always this wretched. Men paint me up when they talk outside the shaken down juke joint, drunk off warm whiskey, drool pooling from snarled teeth: the woman who hides in the swamp off the Delta— murky with…
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