Subscribe
Join our amazing community of book lovers and get the latest stories doing the rounds.
Subscribe!

We respect your privacy and promise no spam. We’ll send you occasional writing tips and advice. You can unsubscribe at any time.

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor
Interview

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor

Meet Breanne Mc Ivor. She…

Read More
Nocturnal Conductions
Humor

Nocturnal Conductions

The first time it happened,…

Read More
The Lady of the Water
Fiction

The Lady of the Water

I’d thought Central America would…

Read More
Two Blind Men
Flash Fiction

Two Blind Men

They knew well I was…

Read More
An Interview with Ernest Brawley
Interview

An Interview with Ernest Brawley

Ernest Brawley, a native Californian,…

Read More

My father peered ahead towards the moonlit backroad, his hands firm on the beaten leather of the steering wheel. He raised one to scratch the dark stubble on his cheek, then to brush the stray hairs out of his line of sight, before finally locking it back in place at the two o’clock position. I didn’t know our destination to offer directions, so I made myself busy by squeaking my red galoshes together. Then, I jingled the metal clasps of my denim overalls. It created a silly rhythm of sorts. This continued until I saw my father silently scratch his face for an extended duration, which I took as a sign to quiet my noise. Our drive went on for another twenty minutes, the silence occasionally broken by a bump in the road to jostle the truck or a cough to clear a throat. We rolled to a stop in…