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Cover
Table of Contents
Editor's Notes
Donations
Submission Guidelines
Website

Stories & Essays
Balance
_
By Alison Baumy
Contemporary Cultural Differences...
_ By Ninni Siurua
Eclipsed Yesterdays
_ By Clyde Windjammer
Healthy Guy
_ By David J. LeMaster
Immortalis Letum
_ By Sophie Davis
Last Call For Salvation
_ By Angela P. Markham
My Fault
_ By Ro Thorton
Pacific Northwest
_ By Aaron Hellem
Q-Q Ca Choo
_ By Billy Pilgrim
The Best Laid Plans
_ By John A. Ward
The Ecstasy of Cooking
_ By Sam Nolting
The Girl With the Green Umbrella
_ By J.R. Earlebeck
The Gods of Houston
_ By Rebekah Frumkin

Poetry
Athena's Owl
_ By Amberly Mason
But I Have Never Known This
_ By Kaleen Love
Clouds On Your Floor
_ By Savannah Bobo
Crowded Lobby
_ By M. Blair Spiva
Ever After
_ By Bennie Johnson
Important Questions
_ By P.T. Bell
Migration
_ By Sarah Wassberg
Moon Goddess
_ By Kristina Diane Smith
Oldest Profession
_ By Ashley Polker
On Visiting Hay-on-Wye
_ By M. Blair Spiva
Sodom and Gomorrah
_ By Jessica Fannin
Wal-Mart
_ By P.T. Bell

Art & Photography
Jeremy Harker
_ Paintings
Douglas C. Knight
_ Photography
Jed Knox
_ Paintings and Drawings
May Ann Licudine
_ Paintings
Danny Malboeuf
_ Paintings
Alex Stanbury
_ Photography

Eclipsed Yesterdays
By Clyde Windjammer


During a total solar eclipse—a phase known as totality—the Moon lies in a straight line between the Sun and the Earth, blocking sunlight from the Earth completely. It is only then that the magnificent corona of the Sun is visible around the Moon’s shadow. Striking as it is, totality only has a maximum duration of 7.5 minutes.

***

One step further. Two steps further. Three.

He likes the feeling of the gritty dirt under his cold, bare feet. It feels natural. Primitive. Almost buoyant. He can taste the freedom, waiting patiently, lingering for his proximity, over the ledge.

Behind him, far away, he can hear a myriad of sounds. Shrill and unpleasant sounds echoing in his ears. Is it the birds crowing? Is it the trail of traffic? Or is it…

“Icarus!”

Icarus. It sounds vaguely familiar. He takes another step forward, and a sharp scream follows, punctuating the divine silence surrounding his world. His toes tap softly, as though counting, counting the time for the beings behind him to come close enough.

One. Two. Three.

He turns around. Four people, gasping and panting, panicked and stunned. A man, a woman, a young lady, a teenage boy. They halt in their tracks, and he cannot help but smile. He imagines an invisible dome isolating himself from them, and in his mind their hands touch the surface of the barrier, rippling upon contact like an aqueous wall. Impenetrable.

***

High above him, far away, an unsolicited shadow peeks around the sun, kissing its edge, tainting it—and the air around it—a contrasting black. A phenomenal process, progressing, unseen, unheard by the rest of the world.

A dying breath.

***

“Icarus! Please!” The woman speaks, her voice wavering, her haphazard ponytail whipping about in the wind, her arms outstretched towards him. But never across the bubble. “Don’t do anything stupid… Icarus!”

She reminds him of the face he used to see in the mirror, the mirror that frequented his morning memories before he added a spider web decoration to it. He tilts his head to one side, slightly, and remembers who she is. He smiles at her again, but she only bursts out in shuddering sobs and shakes her head.

“Icarus, don’t smile like that… it’s scaring me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she weeps wretchedly. “I shouldn’t have been so demanding of you, Icarus. I know it’s my fault you almost had a breakdown. It’s all my fault!”

At the little outburst she starts crying all over again. The man holds her back and she sobs even more, straining to get closer to her son. The boy draws back slightly. Edges closer to the drop. Stares at her hands. Imagines the tool she used to hold in them.

“I’m sorry…” she repeats. “I didn’t know I would pressurize you like this… I just wanted you to be a better person, Icarus, but I didn’t expect things to…” And she collapses, helpless, into the man’s arms.

In his mind’s eye the tool begins to take shape: a huge sack. A huge drawstring bag. Trapping him inside. Suffocating him. Raining down demands, expectations, unfulfilled wishes—you’re my only child, Icarus. I want you to succeed in life, Icarus. I don’t want you to end up like me, Icarus. I just wish for you to work hard and get a good job in future, Icarus. Is that too much I’m asking for, Icarus? Why do you disappoint me time and again, Icarus? Why can’t you just make me proud of you for once, Icarus—

What about me, mother?

***

Around him, far away, the world comes to a halt. No more do the birds crow; no more does the traffic scream. High in the heavens the black disc races across the glaring sun, and the sky darkens. The animals think it is dusk. The humans think it is Armageddon.

Darkness falls.

(Turn the page)