by Gary BeckScene 1            (Pre-show. Offstage. Blaring sounds of anti-gay, anti-military protest, by a radical church group, attempting to disrupt the burial service of a gay Marine, Tom Richardson, killed in combat in Afghanistan. ‘God hates fags’. ‘Thank God for dead soldiers’.  ‘America is doomed’. ‘Thank God for IED’s’. ‘God hates you’. ‘Mourn for your sins’. ‘Fags… Click to read.

Funeral Strains

  Read On A Chance I Was the Family Dog Blood on His Tie Food on the Table and Shoes on our Feet

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by etreClick to this link to download Harvest or purchase a physical copy. From years of collecting stories, poems, essays, pieces of art and photography, we have chosen the ones that we think will have a far reaching impact on the soul of our readers. Additionally we’ve added many never before seen pieces exclusively available in the book.… Click to read.

Harvest (Free e-book)

Click to this link to download Harvest or purchase a physical copy. From years of collecting stories, poems, essays, pieces of art and photography, we have chosen the ones that we think will have a far reaching impact on the soul of our readers. Additionally we’ve added many never before seen pieces exclusively available in the book.…

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by etre  To start, let’s make a radical but cliche assumption: much too often, we’re made to discard our spiritual needs because of economic and social pressure. It’s a problem that has been observed and reported on throughout history and as such it can be said to be apart of the human condition. If so, it… Click to read.

Common Ground

  To start, let’s make a radical but cliche assumption: much too often, we’re made to discard our spiritual needs because of economic and social pressure. It’s a problem that has been observed and reported on throughout history and as such it can be said to be apart of the human condition. If so, it…

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by Rosko TzolovI went out. It was raining. I met a hobo, walking in the pouring rain, pushing a shopping cart. Dressed in a muddy grey coat, unshaven, his hair long and wet. He appeared in the distance enveloped by a mist of tiny droplets, approaching fast, walking with long strides toward me. His dog, a no-breed,… Click to read.

The Lottery Ticket

I went out. It was raining. I met a hobo, walking in the pouring rain, pushing a shopping cart. Dressed in a muddy grey coat, unshaven, his hair long and wet. He appeared in the distance enveloped by a mist of tiny droplets, approaching fast, walking with long strides toward me. His dog, a no-breed,…

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by J.M. Williams  “What is that you’re eating, Sarge?” Iric asked. “It’s something from a village south of the mountains,” Vott said between spoonfuls. “Something to take your mind off the hot weather, they say.” Iric’s nose stung with each shallow breath; the pungent smell was almost incapacitating. “That’s got quite an odor to it, don’t it?” Iric… Click to read.

Memories of the South

  “What is that you’re eating, Sarge?” Iric asked. “It’s something from a village south of the mountains,” Vott said between spoonfuls. “Something to take your mind off the hot weather, they say.” Iric’s nose stung with each shallow breath; the pungent smell was almost incapacitating. “That’s got quite an odor to it, don’t it?” Iric…

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