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Fellowship of the WordBy Thomas Pescatore QuailBellMagazine.com a list of poems has grouped together like a resume. if they were seated The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Children’s Crusade The streets sing mud songs. We listen The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Day 49 in a Burn Unitred numbers in embers in timbers after the inferno arise next to my bed The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Voice of the ForestBy Murad Jalilov & N. K. Valek QuailBellMagazine.com Grandmother is giving us that look. It is the look of chores to be done. I glance to Musah, but it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed Grandma yet.
“Just pretend you don’t see it,” he mutters, getting up from the breakfast table to sneak outside before Grandma says anything. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Basic TrainingShe stretched out, each of her limbs hitting a corner of the world. Her whole body hurt. At any given moment, she felt like a vital appendage may fall off. The thought made her laugh: a high-pitched, chirpy sound. At her age, were they all vital? She was too old for this. She knew she should have stayed home enjoying her garden in peace. Everyone knew she deserved it. More than anyone else, she had earned her quiet retirement. The problem was, she just couldn’t help herself. She really was the most qualified and when the request came in to teach a young group of recruits, there could be only one response. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
WaterfallBy Maeve Florence-Smith QuailBellMagazine.com I ran through the streets of downtown Portland. My alarm had gone off late and I had missed my ride. I needed to get to the bus quickly, or I’d get fired.
“Aye, watch where you’re goin’,” a short uptight looking bald man yelled. He reminded me of a wet ferret with an umbrella. I muttered a hasty apology. I was getting soaked. I was going to be late for the second time this week and at least the tenth time this month. I was so going to get fired. Suddenly my head whipped around. I heard a whimpering. It’s not uncommon to see homeless people in New York but, for some reason, she made me stop: a little girl, hugging her knees. I thought that she looked around ten, but it was hard to tell. Maybe she was older. Her faded clothes were ripped; an especially long rip fell right below her left shoulder as if cut by the rainwater or a shard of glass. She had a roundish sort of face with a short nose and short eyelashes, but her curly dark brown hair reminded me of a cascading waterfall. Her eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that I thought that she might burst at any second, and it looked like she was crying. I walked up to her and she did not even seem to notice. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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You are Not Entirely Blameless By Katie Lewington QuailBellMagazine.com lazy is a word i heard repeatedly growing up lazy is synonymous with the word failure, apparently not self care The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Woman Who Was Done with MenBy Meredith Counts QuailBellMagazine.com Something snapped on the bus home from work.
A man across the aisle made a point to let Amy know he was staring at her legs, that he approved. “Nice shoes,” he said, though his eyes were focused on her knees, trying to look up between them. She ignored him, but he leaned into the aisle toward her. “Nice shoes!” he repeated. Normally she’d give a pest a quick smile, but this time she didn’t want to. When she looked away he said, “screw you, babe.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
If The Shoe FitsThe foot traffic in the department store is crowded and zippy. Different feet and all types of shoes, oh the shoes, sleek, professional, bold, fancy, comfy and cool zooming as people browse and shuffle up and down the aisles. Some of the shoes hover slowly like a judge inspecting the final product. There are business men in shiny shoes, ladies with red bottom heels, dudes in Converse, and classic flats on youthful toes. Shoe boxes litter the aisles and ankle mirrors gleam in the florescent light, but more exciting than the shoes are the people who wear them.
In particular, Sammy. |