FictionHi! How Are You? By Anita G. Gorman
Martha was getting tired of it. Tired of all the people who no longer said hi, but always said, “Hi, how are you?” When did it become a requirement to ask everyone…
Archive
Author: Dual Coast Magazine
Page 7 of 15
Fiction
FictionWhere’s Molly? By Andrew Miller
Anxious travelers clustered around the counter, piles of suitcases strewn throughout the lobby, blasts of cold air from the entranceway, the guttural rasping of snow plows as they clattered down the street.…
NonfictionUnder His Spell By Andrew Miller
Well over six-feet-tall and with flowing white hair, Senator Moynihan was an imposing figure. Witty and quick to smile, erudite and well-spoken, he filled a room. And now, he had me in…
NonfictionDaybreak on Bleecker Street By Diana Leo
I spent the entire afternoon with my favorite aunt on the day before she died. Her name was Etta, but for reasons unknown, her sisters, my mother included, always called her Pan,…
FictionNight Chill By Suzanne Cottrell
As first-time parents, sleep deprived Matt and Margot were over protective, checking on Lizzy numerous times throughout the night. Even though they had a baby monitor and guardian Golden Retriever, Sherman, they…
FictionSunday is Always Tomorrow By Jim Gustafson
But since reform’d by what we did amiss We, by our sufferings, learn to prize our bliss. ~Astraea Redux, John Dryden Father McNally is 40 and without hope. He can’t show it.…
FictionA Cup of Tea By Bruce Levine
“Would you like a cup of tea?” It was an innocuous enough line. Tiffany Braxton read and re-read the single line she had written. It was perfectly simple and said what it…
NonfictionPlaying it Forward: A Pup’s Perspective By Patricia Rossi
My name….Flanagan. I weigh eighteen pounds. Well, to be exact, eighteen pounds, nine ounces. My humble origins, the spaniel. Yes, the spaniel. My mom’s heritage, she reigns from the esteemed and noble…
FictionGarlic Boy By Jonathan B. Ferrini
The screams and cries are loudest at night, and they aggravate the inmates who encourage the predators and fantasize about the fate of the prey. It isn’t long before “Om Mani Padme…
FictionLegendary By Alyssa Murphy
I wasn’t quite sure why my boss decided that Thursday-night karaoke would be a real moneymaker. Then again, Laura was prone to unusual decisions that worked better than anyone expected (see: serving…
FictionDriving Home By Nina Clapperton
The deserted highway was lit only by our headlights as the car sped towards Toronto. It seemed that no one else had planned to drive back to the city after consuming copious…
NonfictionThe Watermelon You Couldn’t Bust By Bill Melton
Can you imagine the reaction of a father, told by his pre-teen son, that he couldn’t bust a watermelon? I was that son and still remember the anger in his face when…
NonfictionPTSD & Me By Rachel Peck
I often wonder if PTSD is something that can bob on a wave; sometimes in the distance, sometimes crashing your rocks. I know very little about it. Except that I have it,…
FictionLetters from the Dead By Christopher Love
In the late August of 1944, my great-grandmother received a letter from my great-grandfather. He was already dead. He’d been killed a month or so earlier in the Normandy invasion. The letter…
FictionThe Oldest Bar in Alaska By Justin W. Price
He shot the whiskey, felt it worm down his throat and warm his belly. He asked for another. On a small stage, the band played Eric Clapton, but not with the passion,…
NonfictionConfession of a Recovering Mambo By Jackie Maugh Robinson
It happened when my boss brought two little gag voodoo dolls and a box of straight pins into our office, and hung them in the employee lounge. They were featureless little gingerbread…
NonfictionNever Take Candy from Strangers By Karin Britt Gall
I studied the eight by ten glossy, remembering the day it was taken. The photographer had positioned me just so on the wooden table. He fluffed out my pristine white and black…
FictionInescapable By Thomas Elson
I love it when I invade people and they’re still ignorant. They feel the need to rush off and learn all about me and their options. But you do know about me.…
FictionWhy Vincent van Gogh Only Sold One Painting by Martin Lindauer
“How come you never sold any of your work, Mr. Go.” “Call me Vince, young fella’. That way you won’t keep mispronouncing my name. It’s Gogh, pronounced Goff.” The young interviewer from…
FictionBonding by Mike Sherer
Have you ever had a little baby duckling cuddle up to you? I’m not talking about a pet. I mean an animal raised in the wild. A park ranger told me a…