The turkey wasn’t going to roast itself. Marla picked herself up off the floor and walked back to the counter where she’d been chopping...

Monday Morning The pot stares at me like Poe’s veiled eye. Tracks me from corner to corner. Its bright blue-green exterior, a peacock...

On yet another Saturday with nowhere to be, I wander into the Tate Modern art gallery. I stand for a moment, watching the people in the...

Two blue lines on a little stick covered in pee – this is where dreams begin. Those blue lines set a parallel course that waffles between...

Death and loss are surprising catalysts for new beginnings Now, it’s late afternoon. I’ve missed breakfast and a walk with my husband and...

She had a choice, it was hers alone to make. Yet, the consequences were not hers alone to endure. ~ We laid side-by-side in the center of...

Note: This short story was inspired by Ana' Neu's original poem, "A big word for a woman," published on Sad Girl Diaries on 8/14/23 Click...

Most people get butterflies in their stomachs. Mine were always more like wasps. I could feel them buzzing around my gut as I watched my...

We are delighted to announce and congratulate Ariana Tucker, the writer behind the captivating short story Summer Marmalade, as the...

Dear Melinka, Aunt Jenny suggested sharing a chicken salad sandwich at a café we discovered on 23rd Street after returning three white...

Rain hit the hood of my car in gigantic, pounding swings. I could barely see Sunset through the wet gray. A wash of same color sky and...

It had been a very long year. The plastic flute of champagne on the table before me was undrinkable - as disappointing as the year that...