Story Excerpts
by David Ira Cleary
The calico cat had big eyes and a big problem. “I’ve lost my human,” she said, nervously lapping at the bowl of lactose-free milk I’d set out for her. Nervously looking at me, trying, like everyone does, not to stare at the notch in my ear and the scar above my eye.
I looked at her. One of her eyes was green, the other yellow. “That’s usually not my bailiwick,” I said.
“Bailiwick?” she echoed. She had clean gums and all her teeth. “I thought you were Marius the Private I. The Cat Who Finds Cats.” READ MORE
by Stephanie Feldman
On New Year’s Eve, at family dinner, Kee announced her plan to take the Year Walk. At midnight, she would walk to the church, circle it three times, and look through the window for a vision of the year to come.
She passed the bowls and left her plate clean; she was already fasting in preparation for the ritual. “Girls,” her father muttered, and stirred his bowl of greasy barley, his spoon clinking against a bone. Young girls who attempted the Year Walk usually hoped for a glimpse of their future husbands. Silly girls, stupid girls. READ MORE