Jul 31
by Jeffrey Toney
It was a cloudless, sunny day. An azure sky reflected off of the tooth, making me queasy. There it was, resolute in concrete at the Iraq war memorial, obscenely out of place, jarring next to the sterile polished marble engraved with names of the fallen heroes. Many had theories of the tooth’s origin, many were wrong.
Jul 28
by Kama Shockey
The donkey only had six hours left to live but because he was a stupid animal, he did not know. He lived behind the market where meat was sold and because of this he never felt at ease. He was not treated well, but he was not beaten excessively either. He was the man’s only work animal and so he was always fed on time. It was all he knew and he did not wish for more than this life because he did not know anything as whimsical as a wish.
by Jeffrey Paolano
The Start
The round enters above my wrist, tumbling its way up my forearm, converting the muscle to milled meat. The ball exits above my elbow although I do not feel of it. Corroborating evidence is the hole in my triceps and the sleeve of my blouse.
by Michelle Bartz
Part I
Homecoming
The sudden dip in altitude nudges him from his sleep. The plane is landing. His chest swells and he is filled with anticipation and excitement. They’re finally going to see each other again. It’s been five hundred and five days since their last touch, their last kiss. He’s talked to her many, many times since then, he just can’t seem to remember right now any specific conversations. He knows this separation’s been hard on her. He’s heard her sobs and felt the pain in her voice. He can’t wait to see them; to gather them in his arms, pick them up and tell them everything’s going to be all right now. Will he even be able to pick him up? He’s five hundred and five days older. How much can a little boy grow in five hundred and five days? But he’s seen pictures, right? Surely he’s seen pictures. He just can’t remember right now.
by Eddie Jeffrey
…then around midday we ran headlong into a dust storm or maybe I got that all wrong this whole time and it’s the dust storm ran headlong into us and we buttoned up tighter than a virgin’s asshole goggles strapped to heads so tight it gave you a headache bandanas pulled up over mouths and noses like rustlers in old westerns but short of sealing ourselves up in a plastic bag at the bottom of an oil drum there wasn’t a goddamn thing we could do except sit there and take it and hope it cleared off sooner than later and the goggles bandanas pulled up collars none of it made the slightest bit of difference the sand and silt found its way into every open space caking on our necks plugging up our ears stinging our hands hot gritty sleet washing in wave after wave against our helmets boots BDUs watches lit up our noses dried up our mouths sand silt slid right down stomachs rattled lungs stole breath cried mud darkness hardly see curve of a helmet rifle stock barrel gear protruding everywhere odd angles goggles fucking mutant insects wind’s so loud can’t tell we’re even moving anymore all we hear’s paint being gouged off the side of the truck all of us alone in that storm sitting right on top of one another in the back of that truck camo ragtop fluttering buzzing in sync with the pitch of the gale all the while filling up with the burning swirling stinging earth in the blackness crossing over mummies all going to be buried out here and then the storm passes horizon-wide smudge like a swarm of locusts slithering west droning ears and it’s over like nothing ever happened and the Bradley in line behind us noses forward blooms a ball of fire inside out wall of smoke diesel mirage writhing melting crew flames MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! somebody yelling screaming dismounting fanning out double-quick troopers explosions sand or clumps of dirt or rocks or body parts raining down DISPERSE! DISPERSE! DISPERSE! tumble to the deck the trooper nearest me points back to the road crooked broken nose bleeding thick white spittle corners his mouth eyes that wide I never seen and he’s hollering but I shake my head cup my hands behind my ears I CAN’T HEAR YOU! can’t hear my own voice jaw vibrations skull vibrations his mouth forming MINES! MINES! MINES! over and over and over again turn around and SEE and…
Eddie Jeffrey’s father retired from the Army in 1987 and served two tours in Vietnam with the 18th Engineer Brigade. His work is forthcoming or has appeared in Three Quarter Review, Livid Squid Literary Journal, Star 82 Review, Thrice Fiction, JazzTimes, and The Alexandria Times. He is an editor of Baltimore Review and lives near Baltimore with his wife, daughter, and two dogs.
by Lawrence Farrar
The aircraft carrier rose and fell easily as it sliced south through the Philippine Sea. It was hot — damnably hot. And the thick air that hung over the sea felt as wet as the water beneath it. Seemingly unperturbed by the temperature, the ship’s new Executive Officer (XO), Commander Jack Dornin, stood behind a lectern in secondary conn, a space in the bow of the ship just below the flight deck. Flanked by the Chief Master at Arms and a legal office yeoman, Dornin presided over a preliminary hearing for sailors charged with minor offenses.
by Harry Phillips
Jill awoke to the familiar aroma of brewing coffee as her alarm went off. In the dark quiet of her bedroom she muted the alarm then reached for the light on her nightstand. The soft light illuminated the framed photo of her grinning soldier husband. She smiled at his rugged handsomeness which she missed having next to her in their bed. Leaving the warm bed, she shivered as a cold chill passed over her. It was time, she mused, putting on her robe and slippers. She moved to the staircase stepping quietly down the creaky wooden steps as she thought, I cannot wait to hear his voice. He would be calling soon.
by Stanley Beesley
One thing he knew for damned sure: he wasn’t for some nursing center or the old soldier’s home.
by Joe Schneller
Rob woke throwing haymakers. His first thought: we’re overrun. He dropped to the deck and reached under the rack for his weapon. Nothing there. Wait, his hand felt cord. He pulled. Light flared and Rob thought he would die.
May 28
by Chad Smith
January 1944
Tsarskoye Selo, Leningrad Oblast
German Occupied Russia
Generalmajor Kristof Von Traugott ran for his life.
O-Dark-Thirty