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Cover
Table of Contents
Editor's Notes
Donations
Submission
Guidelines
Website
Stories
& Essays
A Day In the
Life
_ By
Sida Li
Eight
Minutes
_ By
Michael Gettings
Jesusland
_ By
Max Gordon
One September Morning
_ By
Brian G. Ross
Patrimony
_ By
Len Joy
Reading Between the Lines
_ By
Michael Gettings
Scarring Truth
_ By
M.W. Hamel
Snapshots of the Ordinary
_ By
Monica Lee
Spirals
_ By
Robert Connal
Stars
_ By
Daliso Chaponda
The Jury
_ By
Jeremy Tavares
The Thief
_ By
Marva Dasef
The Train to Pennsylvania
_ By
C.L. Atkins
Poetry
735 Miles to Nootka Island
_ By
Nicholas D. Klacsanzky
Al Fresco Cafe Poems #125
_ By
Duane Locke
Al Fresco Cafe Poems #127
_ By
Duane Locke
Barnstormer
_ By
Lynn Strongin
Gilded Candy
_ By
Mina Blue
Marriage 2
_ By
Christine Redman-Waldeyer
Memo to Italy
_ By
Andrew Francis
Rain, Your Words, and the Agony...
_ By
Betina Evancha
Sarcasm
_ By
Juliette Capra
Textbook
_ By
Christine Redman-Waldeyer
The Unspoken Eloquence of the Sword
_ By
Anne Nialcom
Three Shades of Grey
_ By
Monica Lee
We Pay
_ By
Betina Evancha
White Dread
_ By
David Snyder
Writing
_ By
Betina Evancha
Art
& Photography
Keira Anderson
_ Photography
Anne-Julie
Aubry
_ Paintings
Whitney
Clegg
_ Photography
and Drawings
Eman Reharno Jeman
_ Photography,
Graffiti, and Drawings
Mike Pomery
_ Paintings
Jennifer Robbins-Mullin
_ Photography
Madia Krisnadi Widodo
_ Photography
Penny Wilson
_ Mixed
Media and Digital Art
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One
September Morning
By
Brian G. Ross
I am a hundred and ten floors up in the North. The fireball is a few stories down.
Somewhere below that, in amongst all the dust and the debris, my son is doing his best to rescue the ones he can, as well as the ones he cannot.
I smile. My boy, always trying to save the world. I wonder if this time he is too late.
My husband Guillermo works on the hundred and twelfth in the South. Sometimes we stand by the window and smile at each other—me looking up, him looking down—but this morning we are pressed against the glass like limpets, screaming “I love you” at each other through the strengthened glaze, crying tears of regret and last moments.
I have my cell phone and he has his, but he is losing his signal and I am losing my voice.
Losing everything.
I watch in horror as Guillermo goes from up here to down there in a slow-motion heartbeat. My wet gaze follows him as the South Tower crumbles into a dust mushroom in the heart of the city, and my world gets a little smaller.
I look across as the flames start to lick the walls out in the stairwell.
My cell phone shrieks static.
Soon it will be my turn.
_
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BRIAN G. ROSS is twenty-nine and lives in Scotland. He has almost forty publications to his name, from
humor (Defenestration) to horror (Thirteen), and mystery
(Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine) to mainstream (Southern Ocean
Review). He also appears in the anthology, Read By Dawn, alongside horror luminary Ramsey Campbell. He is married, both to his wife and his words.
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