Short Fiction

A Mom Moment

“Mama! I got the part!” feet running through the house, book bag thumping on the table. Her hands deep in the garden soil, amazed her heart can still expand so […]

Holding Hands

“I miss museums,” she said. He nodded. “I miss apple orchards in the fall,” she said. He smiled. “I miss holding hands” she closed her eyes. He squeezed her hand. […]

Bean Sorting

[A short story, by Laylah Muran de Assereto (1996, rev. 2020)] Laurel always loved to cook. From her earliest years the kitchen had been her playground. When she was six […]

The Doc Martens

The girl, who needed some kind of release, caught sight of her Doc Martens. The shoes that the two of them had picked out together. The shoes that had made her feel invincible. The shoes that had allowed her to let her inner-self roam free and unafraid, in a life riddled with fear of inner-self.

Sunday Wildflowers

Yellow. But not the color of daisies and crayons. More like neon green, but yellow and not neon. The colors together are pretty, but that kind of pretty you’re supposed to think is ugly. Not that colors are… ugly.