NONFICTION
 

Sherpur Cemetery: Kabul, Afghanistan by J. Malcolm Garcia
Rahimullah Habibullah slouches in a chair by the gate of Sherpur Cemetery, watches the British couple by the grave.

They stand with their hands cupped at their waists for ten, fifteen minutes. Then the woman moves near tree behind the tombstone and asks the man to snap a photograph...

Per Ardua Ad Astra by Kim Bannerman
It seems a shame to call them Common. Pistaster ochraceus; the sharp syllables summon images of blunted spines and a pentacle of stout legs. In warmer oceans they are orange but here, creeping across submerged cliffs, their skin is a deep amethyst studded with white...

Gumming of Age in the Bronx by Jeanne Holtzman
Back in the days before my 12 year molars grew in, Chiclets were a mainstay of my candy regimen. Of course, they were not the only teeth-rotting treat in those days before Fluoride treatments and sealants...

Morning Coffee by Peggy Vincent
I pour a cup of coffee for my mother and dilute it one third with water, for she doesn't like the strong Italian roast I make. I feel her watching me as I pour French vanilla creamer in a steady stream, then add four teaspoons of sugar...

Tribute to the Gods by Allen McGill
The triangular sail of the felucca shows white against the darkening sky. Its peak rises above the hills of the sacred West Bank, across the Nile from ancient Luxor. I have the boatman cross slowly, eager to savor the gentle smells and sounds of the Egyptian night...

The Window by John Libertus
I'm sitting here in this dark little room by myself and, through the window, falling across my empty lap, is what could be moonlight, but it's flashing off and on. There's an electric sign across the street and I haven't even read it, I don't know what the hell it says...

Characters that Run Away by G. Scott Robinson
Just as Geoffrey Chaucer was beginning the Canterbury Tales, he wrote a long poem entitled 'The Legend of Good Women.' By 14th century standards it sucks. By today's standards it sucks. Critics and Chaucerians look for ways around it...

Mary Elizabeth by Toni Joell Layton
I stood in my hospital gown and stared down at feet I hadn't seen in months. My legs trembled. I didn't know which pain the trembling was from; my body or my soul. Leaning against the tile doorway, I turned the water up as high as it would go, tossing pale blue fabric in a heap behind me as I stepped inside my sanctuary...

Reader's Remorse by Toni Lapp
Grandpa's thirst for reading was always the source of much interest. He made daily trips to the post office in tiny Yellow Springs, Ohio, and was frequently rewarded with a new book wrapped in parchment. He had books in English, Italian, French, Spanish and even Flemish, Swedish, Portuguese...