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

Stories & Essays
A Day In the Life
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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

Spirals
By Robert Connal


He sits at his table, watching the small clock peel the seconds from his life. Sunk in its exact and heedless task, it reminds him of his own hand on a knife, peeling an apple's red, wax skin.

"You peel like a surgeon," she said.

The long, neat spiral slid to the plate and lay in a red-white curl. Candles of red wax glowed above the table and made fluttering, butterfly shadows around the walls and over the furniture. In the grate, fire embers sank from scarlet to a dull, deep red like brimstone.

She asked: "What are you thinking?"

He turned in his hand the skinned apple, its flesh speckled with tiny points of juice.

"Susan..."

Holding the blade like a scalpel, he held the apple above the candle flames and cut to the core.

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ROBERT CONNAL lives in Scandinavia with his wife and two teenage children. He has translated several non-fiction books on computing and related subjects, but he prefers to write fiction. He spends some of his spare time working for Distributed Proofreaders, a charity that digitizes public domain books for free distribution by Project Gutenberg.

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