She took no pleasure in sunny days;how a shadow fell on pavement,an eddy of dust on a desolate corner,the reek of hot asphalt in an…

Tilting her head back, my mother peers into the bathroom mirror and puts on her lipstick in three deft moves – quick strokes left and…

The sky was a deep, inky blue studded with stars. There was no moon, so no moonlight, which was all to the good. I had…

On a hot Sunday afternoon in July my father is out in the backyard listening to a baseball game on the radio. The announcer’s voice…

Susan K. Maciolek’s story “Crayon” appeared in Midwestern Gothic Issue 8 How long have you been writing?My father brought home scrap paper from the office when I…

Late November – gray, cold, grim. The radio blared Christmas music between bulletins about a fire at a grade school. A report on the number…

Three little Mexican girls in frilly white dresses run up and down the hallway in their sock feet, trilling in delight. They slide on the…