By Barbara Diggs And here they go again, the family insisting that she accompany them to the beach this summer because Walt says she spends far too much time sunk in her old corduroy La-Z-Boy watch…

By Barbara Diggs And here they go again, the family insisting that she accompany them to the beach this summer because Walt says she spends far too much time sunk in her old corduroy La-Z-Boy watch…

YouTube video by Darwinner

Our first monthly round-up of literary events and opportunites, online and in person

Edwin realizes too late that the door to the roof has locked behind him. He pats his pockets; no, his phone is still on the nightstand. And Lenore, such a deep sleeper, won’t notice him gone until morning. What a stupid idea, coming up here to steal some night-blooming jasmine for Lenore. She thinks he’s a romantic, only ever coming to this garden after dusk, and a workaholic who never leaves his windowless home office. He should have told her his secret. Hundreds of years, and no regrets until now. Dawn is coming. The scent of jasmine fills the air. --- Linda M. Bayley is a writer living on the Canadian Shield. Her work has recently appeared in voidspace zine, Five Minutes, BULL, Short Circuit, FlashFlood Journal, Underbelly Press, Stanchion, Does It Have Pockets, Roi Fainéant, Frazzled Lit, and Tiny Sparks Everywhere, the National Flash Fiction Day 2024 Anthology. Find her on Twitter and Bluesky @lmbayley.

To get me away from watching reruns of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman all summer, my Aunt Zettie invited me for orange Kool-Aid and taught me how to crochet using Wonder Bread plastic bags. She showed me her collection of Sunday hats, dining room curtains, a toilet seat cover, and her own version of The Last Supper that she had crocheted; all popped with red, yellow, and blue dots. Soon I made vests and headbands for my sisters, a tie for Dad, a rain bonnet for Mom, and my summer wardrobe: t-shirt, shorts, flip flops, and underwear. Mom gave me the news about Aunt Zettie, and I crocheted her a wig and a gown with twist ties in the back. When I visited, she was wearing both and said, “This takes me back to the time I read tea leaves at a carnival.”   --- Jeff Harvey lives in Southern California and edits Gooseberry Pie Lit. His fiction has been published recently by Ghost Parachute and Bending Genres.