"The Map," by Don Schwartz

This story has the ambience of a modern film noir and a chilling discovery about the Nazi’s penchant for detail surrounding a mysterious map. But the story delves deeper than any film noir movie. The relic from Hitler’s private collection is a corner of a map of the Warsaw ghetto before the Jewish uprising. And the map was an exact replica of every block, every building, every nook and cranny used for hidden munitions and hidden passages where children confiscated bread from outside the ghetto and returned and delivered their bounty to their parents. With remarkable intrigue and references to actual events and people, Schwartz weaves a story to illuminate what it means to be German. Read it here at The Adirondack Review.

“Since the Accident: A Story,” by Michael Croley

What at first the reader perceives as a trauma sustained from a car crash later burrows deeper into character aspects of integrity and honesty and the quiet conflict with her spouse. Secrets and the difficulty of communicating truth fester below the accumulating snow of this winter tale. The story unfolds a common enough life of a middle class couple in a small town where there are expectations about starting a family. But something’s wrong. Read the story here at Narrative Magazine to find the clues about this woman’s internal dilemma.

"Caution," by Nathaniel Bellows

The story opens with a clear statement of fact: “It was Mrs. Adams, a woman from their town, who had died.” The omniscient voice tantalizes us with its distance from events and emotion. A girl and her mother share something curious, a penchant for hiding emotion and facts. Bellows’ story is full of tension and mystery. Some things in life happen and we cower, other things happen and we deny their occurrence. Sometimes the factual details of events cushion painful emotion, masking as denial. And then there are shocking moments that can only be explained through sheer passion of emotion. This story delivers on all of this as well as mystery, death, and violence in a seemingly quiet Vermont town, which carries an invisible air of violence. Read it here in memorious for the pure pleasure of it and the puzzling facets of detail.

"Backbone," by Glen Pourciau

In some relationships there is an imbalance of power. To an outsider, it can seem almost funny but inside the situation it’s another story. One partner has more backbone and is more determined than the other to take control. A seemingly small mistake, paying for one dessert that they did not order, appears to linger silently but resurfaces ten years later. Why we hold onto old wounds is the stuff of therapy. But Pourciau shows through sharp dialogue how the upper hand in this situation shifts from wife to husband. Read it here at Apple Valley Review.

“Four Shorts about Feet,” by Louisa Wolf

I don’t often think about my feet until they talk back. There’s the occasional bruise, or such matters of aging like bunions, fallen arches, and plantar fasciitis. Regardless of the insult, our feet convey our heft through life but the first person narrator in these stories takes a perspective closer to the soul. Rich imagery and memory weave a series of stories as child, wife and mother. While the image of feet links these stories, here’s an image that stuck with me. The language evokes a parent’s conflicting feelings during the teenage-rearing years: “My heart, a leathery pouch as wrinkled as a hobbit’s purse, hiding hope, and maybe a dagger.” Read it here at Agni Online.

"To Pieces and To Death," by Amanda Rea

A woman alone feels deep silence and emptiness in her apartment after her pet fish dies. Outside the neighbors argue and words of domestic violence penetrate her living space and imagination. She can’t sleep. A few months earlier she’d left her husband without warning, a guy who professed his love, a guy who was really nice to her as well as strangers. All around, a really nice guy. But somehow he responded with hysterics to only things she’d said to him. Unlike her, he had refined tastes when it came to wine and avant garde films. There are some intriguing internal stories to link with her sense of loss like the one about the missionary woman who became emaciated for refusing to eat another banana, but her husband force-fed her the mush and she eventually died of fright. Another is a dream about her fish that apparently survives and finds freedom in flying. And the neighbor survives another round of domestic abuse, police tape surrounding her place. The associative leaps between encounters and thoughts are strong. Read it here in Wazee Journal.

"The Girl On The Bus," by Brian Patrick Heston

How many times do teens set out looking for validation only to be crushed by rejection? Heston captures the way a high school sophomore thinks about a girl whom he often sees on the bus. There is also the authoritative voice of his friend who obviously has more experience in the ways a girl thinks and behaves. He’s one of those kids upon whom no detail is wasted and if the details don’t satisfy, he’ll convince anyway. This friend’s influence is both humorous and controlling. The dialogue is fresh and moves the story with the force of a twister that can unexpectedly change course. And that’s what happens with the depth of character given these two boys. Get the experience. Read it here in Our Stories.