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He always wrote about his bittersweet nightmares.  They always consisted of her; Ryan Durst never remembered anything else really.  She would come to him and look as beautiful as ever. They would hold hands and walk around the lake, noticing the changing colors of the scenery; she would apologize forContinue Reading

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The only thing I remember about my nana is her hands. They were not the soft, Toll House baking hands of America’s favorite grandma. They were hard. Hard and wrinkled and full of calluses. They were the hands of a woman who spent far too many years out in theContinue Reading

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When I was young, I dreamed of being a baseball player. A common Midwest dream I played second base in Little League  Smoothed the dirt in front of me, waited for my opportunity.  A good glove, an awful bat though.  I struck out more times than I can count, RealizedContinue Reading

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Marty’s maternal family came from the Creek Indian tribe of Alabama. His grandfather, who went by Buck, talked like Foghorn Leghorn and was full blood Creek Indian. When Marty was a boy, he went fishing with Buck. Marty stood up to grab the bait box and fell into the river.Continue Reading

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Watch her now as she performs the ritual. She is not who you think she is. Yes, she may still be the librarian who smiles as you go in for your study sessions on weeknights. Or she may be that front-of-house friend you had keeping you sane as you workedContinue Reading

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The entrance to the conveyance is getting smaller; the rectangle closing towards a vertical slit. Our arrival, however, pauses the doors — just enough. We turn sideways and squeeze through. We’re in. The doors whoosh shut. Ding. We’re moving before we realize we’re on the wrong elevator. Too late. WeContinue Reading

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The world is tinted purple the sky’s a shade of green the landscape reflects hues of colors I have never seen; I walk as if I’m floating on a bright and crisp rainbow and when you float on toward me I whisper things you’ll never know. In a world whereContinue Reading

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Kevin Sampsell has worked at Powell’s Books since getting hired as “temporary” holiday help in 1997. He’s now an events coordinator and the small press section curator. He also runs the long-running micro press, Future Tense Books. Besides his published writing, he has also contributed collage art to a numberContinue Reading

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I attended a paint party at an aunt’s house with my boyfriend Stephen. Everyone was following the newest fashion: leave everything in the house where it is and cover it in paint. We watched in awe as they dumped bright green paint over a pile of magazines on the kitchenContinue Reading

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We were walking on a road near the quarry, above Lithia Park. I saw some deer up ahead and called back for you to take a look. You were collecting flowers or rocks somewhere behind and did not answer. I approached the deer and saw that there were two ofContinue Reading