Thursday, April 25, 2024

Precious Inventions

In the midst of the town, an inventor, Old and frail, but still, reluctantly, alive; Inventions unlike others – nearly human. One in particular, a cute white doll, Resembling his long lost wife, Wipes stains noisily everyday,  Reminding him of...

Feature Fiction: Beginning’s Eve

A woman walked in the garden Her footsteps marked the infant ground Ideas coiled around her heart Voices hissed within her head A woman plucked an apple She thought one bite would suffice A stream of tart slithered down her...

Feature Fiction: Hope

Tim sat at his desk doing nothing. The sun rises and sets, flowers bloom and wither, storms rage and subside — and just as assuredly, Tim remains unaccomplished. As for the sun, it shone...

Q&A: From Meadowsweets to Zinnias

The Highlander reached out to past writers for “Feature Fiction” to find out more about the creative machinations of their works. We conducted a Q&A with the newly hired Assistant Features Editor Alexandria Esteban,...

Feature Fiction: From Meadowsweets to Zinnias

Courtesy of Pexels I’ve lived in this house for 35 years. I know the thick, buttery smell the kitchen radiates when Analise, our personal chef, is busy preparing...

Feature Fiction: Stories

Courtesy of Pexels Welcome to the library traveler. Would it be rude to ask from whence you came?  Are...

Heaven’s Lobby

Courtesy of Flickr When you die you are informed that in order to pass over to the afterlife you must first guide the new incarnation of yourself to...

Feature Fiction, Issue 15, 1/28/20

Storm: By Sabrina Hunter, CW Her head was the lightning filled sky. Anxiety and thunder coursing through her veins, Blood substituted by sadness, The fast beating of her heart as scattered as the rain, Trembling hands echoed the waves...

From the pages of a book

My title matters not at the moment, but I will tell you what I am. I am an old book here on an old shelf. You might wonder about my history, but I cannot...

Daylight Funeral

Golden buttons sewn  On a hungry maiden’s gown Pale as polished bones She doesn’t make a sound She made a deal to stay But she breaks into a run Toward one joyous day Beneath the radiant sun Her husband whispers every verse And...