On "Girl in the Mirror" by John W. Buckley (7464 words) ****

Reading this story, I was reminded a bit of a story I'd read in a creative writing class years ago, an account of a tongue piercing. We don't get a tongue piercing here, and the language isn't nearly so artificially lyric, but what we do get is a wonder portrait of a younger girl trying to find herself and trying to hook a guy on whom she has a crush. Sometimes, discovering yourself is about discovering another person. Read the story here at Menda City Review.

On "Puzzles" by Gail Taylor (4692 words) ***

Taylor's story catches with the first line, and it manages to keep readers compelled--at least, this reader--with its attention to detail, for it is in the details that this story is told. It could be simply a story about grief, but with the deep descriptions of a man who is only half there, we get a feeling for the whole, and that's what makes this story so real and fanciful at the same moment, in other words, so good. Read it here at Menda City Review.

On "Kalispell" by Aaron Hellem (1160 words) ***

The nicest moments in this story comes after the first section, when the narrator goes over to a friend's house for a meal. The recount of the visit reminds me much of times when I've gone over to similar places, where families reside in seeming contentment. I, too, can't help but think, this is something I could never have, something that I'm glad just to be playing a part in as a guest for a few hours on a single day. Read the story here at Menda City Review.

On "Endless Cup" by Emily Ross (3850 words) ***

Ever been in love with love, with the idea of person? So much romantic love starts out this way, in this ideal, this crush, we have on someone we create in our own head. We have a handful of interactions with the person, and each one betokens some kind of meaningful zeitgeist that is going to transform our life--if only we can get that person into our life. Meanwhile, Ricky or Bonnie or Pat stand by, right there, before us, waiting for us to get over this silly thing. But we'll never see Ricky or Bonnie or Pat as worth our time--not when Mr. or Ms. Ideal is around. Ross's piece focuses on exactly this kind of ordinary conundrum but in a way that we can't help but feel a bit for its protagonist, whose visions are belittled by her coworker and friend, a person who perhaps sees love in more practical (read, financially beneficial) ways but also in ways much less romantic. Read the story here at Menda City Review.

"Every Earth Is Fit for Burial" by Cyn Kitchen (7659 words) *****

This one caught my attention straight out with its clear voice, its southern Evangelistic feel. What's nice about this piece, however, is that it doesn't--to me--belittle its subject matter. Religious folks are easy to make fun of, and while I'm one of them, I'm often uncomfortable talking about my own faith because of the kind of ludicrous behavior that some spiritual folks engage in. But that's part of faith, isn't it? For some--and certainly for these folks.

But where I really see faith is in our narrator, a faith in her mother and her mother's religion, and in her father, her faulty crippled dad, who despite all his shortcomings proves to be as kind a soul as most all the others in this story. Kudos to the Million Writers Award judges for picking this one out of the pack to include in its top-ten short list (it got my vote for best of the year). Read it here at Menda City Review.

On "Christmas Tree" by Lydia Copeland (469 words) ****

Here's another nice flash piece by Copeland, the wordsmith. Here, we get a rundown on a niece's life, on an aunt she adores and on moments made weird by new members in the family (something that I myself have always felt a little odd about when meeting some girl's parents or hanging out with her family--me this relative stranger her might one day be a part of the family, though not from birth).

As for the aunt, I remember my own precious aunt. She didn't let us get away with things like smoking or drinking. In some ways, she was more strict than my quite strict mother. My mom cleaned the house twice a week; this aunt cleaned it every day. My mom let us play in the living room, as long as we put our toys away. This aunt didn't let us play anywhere but in the bedrooms. But what this aunt let us get away with that my mom would never have let us get away with was putting sugar on our cereal, and what's more, eating cereals like Fruit Loops, deemed unhealthy by my parents. We were limited to Shredded Wheat, oatmeal, Grape Nuts; if lucky, we might get honey on the cereal from time to time. Looking back on it, however, I'm glad my mom wasn't into letting us have so much sugar. Read the story here at Menda City Review.

On "For Those about to Rock, We Salute You" by Sacha A. Howells (3850 words) ****

At the tail end of my previous job, when all of us working for the company were being laid off due to a merger, all of us having to reapply for our jobs in this new company, in new places, where we would have to move if we wanted to stay employed, the assistant to the managing editor applied for and got quite a few possible positions. Her cubicle was right outside my office, so I got to know what was going on in her life quite well. Her husband had told her he was willing to move. But when those positions were hers, suddenly his tune changed. He was a member of a rock band. It was going to be something, he was sure. He couldn't just leave. They were newlyweds--I got to see all the angst and trouble such new couples often have played out in front of me.

The narrator of this story isn't unlike that husband, isn't--I dare say--unlike so many of us, ever hopeful, ever dreamy. What I like about this piece is the desperation. It's a desperation that comes out in the anxiousness around this main character. It's a party that has ended, a youth that is going down. But our main character refuses to acknowledge it. He's going to be something. He's going to be something. Is it pitiful? Is it heroic? Most likely we'd think of him as the former, were we to meet him in real life, but in other ways there is a certain heroicism to him as well--or perhaps childishness. Is a dream given up part of becoming an adult or a lack of perseverance. No matter, one thing this character definitely is is funny. Read the story here at Menda City Revew.

On "Cake" by Sarah Rose Etter (1610 words) ****

The connection between food and erotica goes back millennia. Song of Solomon talks of breasts like grape clusters, and Christina Rossetti has a poem about fruits on sale at a market, working the metaphor for something a little more juicy. Etter's "Cake" falls right into that tradition, though for her the metaphor is taken to its literal extreme. I guess all folks have their fetishes. Read the story here.