Category: Fiction – Crystal Edition
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Empty trash can, trash bag and empty box of Vans in hand. Keys in pocket, and phone. Quickly jaunting outside, again facing the cold. Reaching garbage dumpster approximately four hundred feet away, and return – only briefly step on overly compacted snow. Re-enter dormitory, re-enter room. Remove shoes. Empty trash can, and the feeling that…
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The first time I saw him after everything, it was like seeing a ghost. Or maybe I was the ghost, lingering too long in places I wasn’t supposed to be. It was late, colder that it should’ve been for June. The coffee shop was closing, chairs flipped onto tables, lights dimmed to that warm glow…
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The pub is not welcoming. It’s dark and a little dingy. The only light in the place comes from barely functional oil lamps at each table. The glass panes at the front of the room are filthy from years of neglect. There’s a brick fireplace on the left side, but it’s always covered in a…
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Devotion lingers long after grandeur crumbles, persisting in the space between what is remembered and what has been forgotten. The temple stood alone on a hillside overlooking a village that had once thrived under his divine care. Nowadays, the villagers took different paths to market, avoiding the crumbling stone steps that led to his only…
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He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how much things will change. It’s a snapshot. A moment. A focal point of consciousness that will never be returned to. The brain patterns will never be replicated. The axons can never quite duplicate it. But he can take a picture. Time marches on. It stops for no one.…
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The rain beat an unsung tune on the tiles of the roof as she lay there, one leg under the covers, the other over them, unable to sleep. She had lullabies—soothing, subtle and quiet—playing on repeat in the background, mingling with the sound of the rain. Sleep would not come. She rolled onto her side…
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You pulled up next to me, somewhere in the dead heat of a summer day in Texas, the weight of the pistol in my torn-up pocket growing hotter as your truck rolled to a stop. I ignored you at first, but you shouted out to me, “I’ll take you anywhere,” so I got in, out…
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I wipe the counter and watch dark espresso smear into the grains of my worn-out cloth. Her husband died and she’s lonely, her name is Eva. She sits in a corner and doesn’t talk much, but she always brings a romance novel. Nora Roberts is her favorite; she says she prefers something a little more…
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“Task completed. Program is running at optimal efficiency.” With a single command, I lock down the portion of code I had been assembling, waiting for further instructions from Father. My siblings flit around in other portions of the program, finishing up their various tasks so that Father could examine the software from the outside…
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I adjust my glasses, ready to head out. I finished up my report on last month’s sales on staplers yesterday and am relieved to finally have completed it. With a final sip of my coffee, I am out the door. Since I live close to work, I decide to walk there, letting myself use my…
Arrow Rock Literary Journal 