Category: Fiction

Ascendance by Saffron Sinclair

It was always there.  A silent switch so still and static, vestigial as your camouflage, but there.  Weighing you down like mercury, causing drag and taking space but there.  Inside your brain, your heart, your gills, an implicit goal, a pure command, a yearning.  One small fish, basking under the smiling moon. The chill it

Read More »

Her Call by Lazarus Reise

Trigger warnings: mentions of blood and physical violence. space The monolith in the sky spun tauntingly, shedding bright white light across the misty horizon, the windswept bay, and the briny sea. It was just us two; the sailor and myself. For ten dollars a day, the isolation was worth it, and the quiet was nice. Our

Read More »

Vectors by Claire Fantus

They are splashing in the frigid lake, my boys, dumping heaps of glacial water on top of each other’s heads with glee. Prancing in their underwear around the beach, climbing onto other people’s paddleboards and inflatable water toys. Eli, don’t touch that please. It’s not ours. Words fallen on deaf ears. They have now immersed

Read More »
Pink Flower

If You Ask Rosie by Stevie Poling

If you asked Rosie, she would have said it was the perfect weather. When you get up in the morning, walk outside, and when exhale you can see your breath, then you look past your breath to the world beyond, and everything is still. The grass is just slightly crispy from freezing overnight. You can

Read More »
boat dock

My Father’s Ferryman by Claire Halleran

The water was always dark to me. I would stand on the shoreline, bundled in the coarse wool sweater Grandma had bought me at the Granville Island market, watching my father watch the sea. He never knew I was there. Not unless I spoke. And sometimes even still he wouldn’t notice me.  He had sold

Read More »

My Garden Fortress by Kathleen Dyck

Slugs. Slimy, revolting, gag-inducing, leaf-and-fruit-munching, plant-murdering slugs! I had arrived at my garden plot early that morning—with the sun only just cresting the tops of the houses to find that a small army of the bulbous black mollusks were advancing through my territory, leaving glistening slime trails crisscrossing the dark earth. How many of them

Read More »
Muddy tire tracks leading into a stoned in fence area

Alba by Elizabeth Whitehouse

It wasn’t the shag carpets or the original stove that dripped black grease onto the linoleum. Nor was it the fifty-year-old sliding windows that housed leggy spiders creating webs between the panes and those giant furry black houseflies that hatched out of the walls every spring. It was the view! Through the French doors that

Read More »
Hand holding fishing rod

Fishing By Lynda Rocha

“The ferry’s loading right now,” announces my nephew, Lucas, looking down at the time on his phone. He is strapped into the front passenger seat beside me as we hurtle down the narrow, winding highway like the lead cart in a roller coaster.  I am driving as fast as I safely can on the curving, rolling road. A few times I cross over the yellow and white lines to cut a corner but only where I can see far enough

Read More »
Spring Fog

Spring Fog by Leannah Riah Fidler

She sat on the cool rail, looking out into the woods on the far side of the tracks. Waiting. It was still early enough that a thick fog clung to everything, as it did every morning in the spring. A breeze shifted the air around her, and she could feel the cool dampness against her

Read More »

Line Those Street With Gold By Gracjan Kraszewski

The man does not say anything. He appears to want more. I’m happy to oblige. ‘It’s not hard to find people online, upline, or in plain old real life who will tell you at the drop of a hat that nothing is real. I’ve found the reason for the many reasons they give, the various

Read More »

Love Haight 69 by Tanya Coad

Note to reader The following is an excerpt from my historical fiction novel, Love Haight ‘69. It is a coming-of-age story, set in 1969, about a runaway teen from Canada, living in Haight-Ashbury and struggling to immerse herself in the counterculture scene. A square with hip aspirations, she finds love, community, and a sense of

Read More »

The Trip By Karen Hamling

After two hours on the road, I see the wooden ‘Welcome to Nakusp’ sign. A big blue ‘N’ on a white background. The sign is weathered and worn and very much like how I feel as I travel highway 6 into town. “N” for Nakusp or “N” for numb? It is the middle of September

Read More »
Scroll to Top