“The Hangings” by James Hanna

November 15, 2017 1

She recovers the stitch and keeps knitting. Despite her comment, she sings two bars from the Happy Days theme. “Sunday, Monday, Happy Days. Tuesday, Wednesday, Happy Days.” She puts down her knitting, “It’s Wednesday,” she remembers. “We have to attend the hangings.”

“Monsters All” by Richard Zwicker

November 6, 2017 0

For months I led Victor Frankenstein on a mad chase, from Switzerland to Italy to Russia to the Arctic Ocean. Then a storm separated us and, in the distance, I watched a passing ship rescue my creator and leave me for dead.

A Leave of Absence

May 1, 2017 0

Alas! We’re juggling editors right now. We’ve got to announce a leave of absence of unknown length… great apologies! We’ve contacted all our writers we’re capable of contacting, and we appreciate you fellow readers who’ve come aboard with us.   We’ll let you know when we come back into it, which we’re hoping we will, and will be later this year. Thanks again! ALR Eds.

“Litter” by Sofia Lago

April 24, 2017 0

The day is so hot the sky itself might be melting when the girl and her father meet at the outdoor table of the tacky beachside restaurant three minutes off Greenwood Lake Turnpike. It’s a Tuesday, late in the evening but still a long way from sunset. She twists at the stem of the headless sunflower, the top of it left carelessly on the table beside the empty plastic vase. He fiddles with the corner of where the label meets on a bottle of Yuengling.
“So,” she says.
He waits. She adds nothing. The strap of her white sundress slides off her shoulder, and goes ignored.
“So,” he says. “It’s been a long time.”

“White Lion Cub” by Ajay Patri

April 10, 2017 0

Papa?
Yeah?
People are looking at us.
Seema’s face was at the window, ten year old eyes surveying the world, button nose squashed against the tinted glass.
They’re not looking at us, honey. They’re looking at the car.

“The Vegas Differential” by James Hanna

January 18, 2017 0

“You two live in Nerdville,” Dad snapped. “Why doncha play baseball for real steada sitting at that table all day, rolling those goddamn dice?” He was referring to the World Baseball League, that marvelous horsehide fantasy game that I played with my kid brother, Robbie, throughout every summer day.

“Dear Diary” by Justin Zipprich

January 2, 2017 1

Dear diary, I’m a ten year old boy who probably won’t make it till eleven. I’ve got a sickness but I’m not sure what kind. All I know is that I’m not as smart as the other kids and I look different too. It’s sad so I won’t think about it now.

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