On the Five, at Ten by Anthony J. Mohr

It’s 10 p.m. on a drizzly Friday night in Los Angeles. The temperature is in the fifties. My wife, Beverly, and I are home, relaxing on our double lounge chair with a red Scottish blanket draped over us. Cuddled next to us is Ben, the Lhasa Apso we rescued nine years ago. Outside, the backyard lights illuminate the palm trees and the ivy-covered hill. Our bedroom is the ideal place to watch another police pursuit. Two highway patrol cruisers are chasing a car that’s going over a hundred. It’s swerving from the carpool lane to the number one lane, then…

my name is wolf (a boy/then a young man) by Chiwan Choi

  at school from 1st grade through grad school / through four different languages the teachers / didn’t tell me about the weight of time / embedded in your body like hauntings / in this house made of bones and skin // a year lost walking on my complexion / and first footsteps at venice beach / as demarcation of assuming this life / that was meant for someone else // all the years at my father’s church in culver city / filled with addicts and the lonely / i never wanted to meet god / i wanted a life…

Shoji by Chris Yamamoto

photo credit: The Yamamoto Family Chris Yamamoto is an aspiring screenwriter raised in Pearl City, Hawaii. He is pursuing a degree in screenwriting from Chapman University’s Dodge College of Film and Media Arts and will graduate in the spring of 2023. He was also the grand prize winner of the 2021 UCLA Terasaki Nibei Video/Script Contest for a short script written in Japanese.

Brass City by Tiana M. Reynolds

Once upon a time, I dreamt of sirens bruising the morning sky over coffee. There was no relief in the shadows of the buildings, sticky hot fingers reaching across the sea, crawling out of the waves to cast themselves heavy over the fishermen, the beach while I poured a second cup from the pan. The kitchen smelled of breakfast and powdered soap. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t come home that night. Brick by brick, the skyway shrinking but the sun blotted out my name years ago, and I doubted a few bricks could give it back. The day I…

Mina’s School for Fanged Girls by Melissa Darcey Hall

In her hundred years of teaching fanged girls, Mina has seen the rules for turning change twice. When she was a teenager, girls only turned if a vampire bit them. They were mostly safe if they stayed home after dark and didn’t fraternize with men. The rules changed in the 1930s, when unmarried women turned overnight on their thirtieth birthday. The newspapers said their spinsterhood turned them into feral man-eaters, desperate for male attention and comfort. This lasted through the 1960s, until the rules changed a second time and lost predictability. Both the quiet, dutiful housewives and openly lesbian shopkeepers…

Two Poems by Janice Kennedy

  The Journey There is but one road here in this desert, where mountains rise in the distance only to disappear. At night, when you stop for sleep, the stars fall all around you. What you have left behind, you cannot remember. What you are going toward, you may never reach, like the mountains or that star. But what does it matter when you are a traveler, when there is only one road, and you are on it.   Watermelons This year, my father is growing watermelons. I go out and walk among them in the fields, ripe and ready…

Click Here to Relive This Memory by Elizabeth Hazen

  When I am overwhelmed with adult life, I think of childhood days home from school with a cold, cozy in bed. My mother moves the living room TV into my room, and I spend hours watching syndicated episodes of I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched and reading Sweet Valley High. My mother brings me snacks, presses her palm to my forehead, and leaves my door open a crack so I can call her if I need anything. With my father at work and my brother at school, I bask in the rare light of her focus. My memory stops…

It Was the Hipster Who Done It by Caleb Coy

  We didn’t want to go to the mystery dinner theater, but we kind of always wanted to, and so none of us knew which of the others would be the one to offer it as an option. It was Asa, Jude, myself, and our friend Raoul, who was a total hipster. Paint the town; that’s what we had in mind. We were general practitioners of the metropolitan class, and so having a night free meant we had to hang out downtown, but without going to any of the typical venues. We tried to figure out where to get a…

Dexterity by Robert L. Penick

We are the damaged ones making the art singing the songs acting the roles to distract you from self, time and mortality. You can find us at three a.m. on the public radio cleaving time planting hope meaning, joy and, perhaps, stamina. We wait your tables serve your coffee stock your shelves then work our quiet unhinged hours to create the things that keep you human.  The poetry and prose of Robert L. Penick have appeared in over 100 different literary journals, including The Hudson Review, North American Review, Plainsongs, and Oxford Magazine. His latest chapbook is Exit, Stage Left,…

The Happiest Girl in the World by KJ Stewart

    KJ Stewart (she/they) is a playwright/director based in Brooklyn, New York. KJ graduated from NYU Tisch in December of 2019 with a BFA in Drama. Their work as a playwright lives in the realm of horror comedy, with a keen interest in the experiences of queer youth in the age of the internet. Their full length play Cowgirl Summer was produced as an audio drama and featured in the Theater Is Dead festival with First Kiss Theater Company in 2020, and can be listened to in full at firstkisstheatre.com. Find them on instagram @kjessicastewart.