-1- Regina Hargrave was nine when her mother left. Usually children are much younger when their mothers abandon them. These women attribute their actions to the sudden stress of being a mother. They blame the frighteningly insatiable need of their children, the complete and crushing loss of self that they experience. They blame their husbands, their homes, their parents; they blame the circumstances that caused the bars of their life to tighten around them like a cage that was suddenly too sm...

*** Krysta’s arm shook a little as she bent over the mirror. The white lines stared back at her. She caught her reflection, and quickly snorted and sat back up. Her black-rimmed eyes had a haunted look that she didn’t like. She grimaced as she wiped her nose, and then laughed a little. Her companions leered and continued their conversation. The larger man draped his arm around her. She was pretty sure that he would be the one. The girl and the other two guys were already high on some sort of ...

As Anna drove, the endless monotony of the highway stretching before her like a great river of tar, her mind wandered ahead to her destination – Los Angeles, California, the City of Sand. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and looking forward to a summer of fun and relaxation before starting college at Sacramento U in the fall. Keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel, she began to fish around in the passenger’s seat for a granola bar. Her car was what she liked to call “comfort...

We are salty skin Legs intertwined Fingers through strands of gold. My heart beating in his palm While an orchestra tunes itself To the night time sounds. What am I to you, Or you to me? Another set of lovers In an overcrowded sphere. Mouth to mouth Skin grazes skin And touches so much more. I hum along and watch With star-bright eyes As he conducts the orchestral accompaniment. What am I to you, Or you to me? Another set of lovers In an overcrowded sphere. The dish and the spoon Run Run Run ...

As Anna drove, the endless monotony of the highway stretching before her like a great river of tar, her mind wandered ahead to her destination – Los Angeles, California, the City of Sand. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and looking forward to a summer of fun and relaxation before starting college at Sacramento U in the fall. Keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel, she began to fish around in the passenger’s seat for a granola bar. Her car was what she liked to call “comfort...

On Money (Or Lack Therof) Money is such a silly commodity, yet we place infinite importance on it. Perhaps I say this because I have no real experience with money, and I haven't yet grown to love it. I once read that you can tell how responsible a person is with their finances by how their purse or wallet looks. A frugal person's wallet will be neatly organized in order of importance - a little used credit card right in front of the three insurance certificates and the discount card for groce...

THE BEAR WENT OVER THE MOUNTAIN… Not so long ago, there lived a girl. She knew that one day, she would climb the Tallest Mountain in the World. She had glimpsed the mountain once as very small child, but only from the back seat of a Toyota. She had been traveling with her parents in a foreign land. Later, she learned that the locals called the mountain “Mahan Pitaa”, which means “Great Father.” It was an affectionate term that represented the mountain’s duality to those who lived near it. For...

He came home from school one day to find his mother standing in his tree house. He didn't know how long she had been up there, only that the dishes were unwashed and his snack was not yet ready. Dinner was unprepared, and the pile of laundry near the door had reached gargantuan proportions. He was seven, and he was pretty sure that he knew everything that there was to know. This strangeness did not fit with his small world. Confused, he stood in the doorway, watching her intently. She stood o...

I'd never seen a dead person before. I mean, she didn't really look as "Dead" as I had imagined. No dramatic music, no outer wounds. No heartfelt last words, wisdom from one on the edge. She just looked... waxy. Small. A little slack, like her skin wasn't quite attached to her bones. She looked... not alive anymore. I was surprised I cried. I mean, sure, she was my grandmother But she had been ill. Very ill, for a long time. And certainly death was a welcome release from her twenty years of s...

Sitting in a darkened bar Just heard bad news about a friend. "I wish I wish I wish I could Believe you." The singer has diamonds in her pockets. At that moment, it doesn't matter that she's sleeping with her bassist and cheating on her husband of three years. She's beautiful, like a candle just after it's been blown out. A blackened wick rising from the liquid wax with one burning coal near the tip, producing rich gray wisps into the recycled air. They say you can't spell 'Believe" Without L...