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15
May
School's Out

“The Boy Between Worlds” by Jason Deeds

Tim, who was often called Timmy, was a boy between worlds. More to the point, Timmy was pretty much between everything. At 12 years old, he was between childhood and adulthood. Being a ward of the state, he and his older brother were always between foster parents. Living in “The Gap”, he was between fantasy and reality. Timmy never felt stable, never felt that sure about anything, until one day in the middle of spring when Timmy walked into his sixth grade classroom. Timmy was sure the teacher didn’t belong.

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1
May
Image by Razor Brown of Flickr

“Clean Slate” by Melissa Milazzo

My dog is small and old and he has an old man’s problems. Namely, that he has a hard time taking shits. He’s not doing too bad, considering I found him half-dead on the side of the road. I was half-dead too, or fully dead. I’m not really sure.
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12
Apr
Picture by Deviant Brainwave, source: flickr

“The Wolf Moon” by Sara Eiser

“Margie, about ten minutes to sunset.” Eula finished her coffee, wiped her mouth neatly with a napkin, and picked up her jacket from the booth. “I’ll go pay and call Dr. Murton. You finish up.”

Margie grumbled into her coffee mug and checked her watch. 7:26pm. She needed a smoke, but Eula was a Nazi about not smelling like smoke in front of “her mamas and babies.” Not like they were humans, she thought. Dogs didn’t care what you smelled like; neither should wolves.

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27
Aug
jack-of-hearts-md

“Confidence” by Jeff Burkholder

Some guy once said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.” You ask me, they were being nice.

I learned how to con from my dad. He would wink at me and say, “Cody, the trick is to learn that everyone wants to believe in something. I don’t care if it’s God, the government, or Michael Jordan; they’re looking for something to believe in. All you need to do is find out what that is.”
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30
Jun
white_rose

“The Spinster’s Secret” by Andrea Cumbo

“The Spinster’s Secret: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Andrea Cumbo

They all think I’m a spinster. Okay, so they wouldn’t use that word; it’s too old-fashioned, all Faulkner and roses for Emily. They would say I’m “lonely.” They would be wrong.
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