Robert Edward Sullivan
Ebbing

Robert Edward Sullivan - Ebbing

Fiction
Robert Edward Sullivan is from the Midwest (Iowa and Michigan) but now lives in Oregon. He holds an MFA from… Read more »
Leslie Anne Jones
Foreigner Manager

Leslie Anne Jones - Foreigner Manager

Fiction
Leslie Anne Jones was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska. Dark winters, big glaciers, neighborhood moose—all that stuff. She spent… Read more »
Dan Malakoff
Standstill

Dan Malakoff - Standstill

Fiction
Dan Malakoff’s short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Pleiades, Prick of the Spindle, The Long Story, Ellipsis, River… Read more »
Therese Borkenhagen
The Amazon

Therese Borkenhagen - The Amazon

Fiction
Therese Borkenhagen is a freelance writer and translator from Oslo, Norway. She completed her BA and MA in English Literature… Read more »
Maxine Rosaler
The Girl from Texas

Maxine Rosaler - The Girl from Texas

Fiction
Maxine Rosaler’s fiction and nonfiction has appeared in or is scheduled to appear in The Southern Review, Glimmer Train, Witness,… Read more »
Scott Sikes
The Widow’s Daughter

Scott Sikes - The Widow’s Daughter

Fiction
This is Scott Sikes’ first published work. He is thrilled and also keeping his day job, which he loves. He… Read more »
Nick Almeida
Watchdog

Nick Almeida - Watchdog

Fiction
Nick Almeida is an MFA candidate at the Michener Center for Writers in Austin, Texas. He holds an MA from… Read more »

The Widow’s Daughter

Scott Sikes

On a grass covered hill in the very center of an unused pasture that slopes down to the spot where Coal Creek mixes into Chestnut Creek stands a house, or what remains of a house. It is a shell of emptiness shut up from the world, containing only breathed air that never had chance to escape. It was built in 1919, and it stands to this day as solid as the sky that surrounds it. If it moans in the wind or cracks and pops as it settles, no one is close enough to hear. It stands as it did on the day that George Williams, the man who built it, last turned the heavy lock on the front door and slipped the key into the pocket of his pants and walked through that field and up Coal Creek to his sister’s house. He did not look back.

George Williams and his twin sister, Pearl, had been lonely children, born to a mother and father who had prayed long and hard for a child and who had grown tired and bitter with disappointment. Their parents had been childless so long that if we hadn’t watched Mrs. Williams’ growing belly for… Read more »