Short Stories & Poetry
Bender by Kenneth Weene
The boy perched on the cement bench, squinted with the fantasy of warfare, and cautiously watched. The enemy was close. The responsibility great. The danger imminent. Carefully he checked his weapon. His gun was loaded, but it’s range limited; Bender knew that he...
Chicken Soup by Kenneth Weene
“What a pain in the ass.” Trudy put her iPhone back into her pocketbook. It wasn’t much of an expletive or very loud, but coming from the lips of my wife it was enough to make me look up from my snack, a piece of Trudy’s latest chocolate-pecan pie, and ask, “What is,...
The Antique Jar
I know not the substance you once held: food or drink, poison, balm. For the farmer or his wife, whose work you did I can not tell. The potter’s hands that gave you birth have long ago returned to earth; and you upon this antiques’ shelf have wiled years and gathered...
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