A Walk in the Woods J. Fox Bedford There are not one, but two, glass jars of potpourri on my desk. Dried rose petals from bouquets so beautiful I couldn’t bear to throw them away. After they faded red...

Uncle J Ken Wuetcher “Hey Philpot, let it all hang out!” Uncle J stood in his leather penny loafers, no socks and Bermuda shorts. Shirtless with hirsute chest. His large round belly shook with laughte...

Spilt Wine Andrew Macleod The keys fell to the wooden landing with a clatter. Again. He cursed at their inert form, then confronted the ruby-red door before him. He reached for the black metal knocker...

plain sailing Neža Harper Avbelj you’ve said your part, now it’s my time to shine two years apart, i’d overstepped a line i’m curious, do you have more to say? no, never mind, it doesn’t matter anyway...

Last Tear Casey Autumn Woods I walk through a slim hall filled with darkness. The darkness consumes all around me. I see the dim light ahead, And start to feel helpless and afraid. Stepping forward, a...

Jimmy Ken Wuetcher Jimmy was one of the cool kids: smoked Marlboro cigarettes, had one of those rad Zippo Brushed Chrome lighters, never had a problem getting beer and whiskey. Stories were told about...

Hello, are you there? Casey Autumn Woods Hello there. I feel you near. Your presence alone shows no fear I can’t see you, but I know you’re there. I feel you close and comfort fills the air I wonder w...

The Pup Tent Ken Wuetcher Orange sides with gray top. Yellow ropes and orange stakes. Front flap with screen door. Smelled funny like pungent plastic. I lie on my sleeping bag after eating popcorn and...

September Weeps Jim Burns A friend of mine died the week before his name came up on the heart transplant waiting list. He finally won the lottery but was too dead to celebrate, and as the emergency te...

September Weeps Jim Burns A friend of mine died the week before his name came up on the heart transplant waiting list. He finally won the lottery but was too dead to celebrate, and as the emergency te...

A Poet’s Journal Entry Ethan McKnight I wonder if I can write about happiness. But most days, smiling is hard enough. If my poems made me feel good, The ink in my journal would be white. For now it’s ...

Dauntless Michael Moreth

When conversations about genitals and bodily functions get too silly!

Dauntless Michael Moreth

"If memories become content, who are you without the screen?" DAYONE. A solo animated short film and research study of Shane Magtoto for EMC Capstone 01 - 02...

cascading paintings and airborne thoughts

TF Green is sent on a two-week contract to protect the wealthy businessman, Mr. Dortmuff. They experience hostile people and the struggle to stay alive for two weeks.

Instructions for Staying Brie Radis Listen, I was left twice by the people, who were supposed to be the soil. First my mother, who taught me early that a door can quietly stop being a door. Then my wi...

Instructions for Staying Brie Radis Listen, I was left twice by the people, who were supposed to be the soil. First my mother, who taught me early that a door can quietly stop being a door. Then my wi...

Pretty Little Flowers Cynthia Pitman Before they took her away, I used to stand by my window and watch my mother work in her flower garden. I can see her now, on her knees, crouched down, spade in han...

Coming Full Circle Ute Carson There was a young man and a young woman unaware what life might have in store. Being in love was enough to believe in the future. How did they weather conflicts? Was it p...

Blue Villa Mag's submission manager. View Blue Villa Mag's calls for submission.

Blue Villa Mag's submission manager. View Blue Villa Mag's calls for submission.

Self-Portrait as Grocery Store Kat Neal All of my thoughts are buy-one-get-one- free, a cart piled with ten tubs of pancake mix and I don’t eat breakfast most of the time. Check-out lanes clogged up t...

The River Loves Martha Kat Neal Down the Blue Springs River, a person may smell fresh buttered popcorn wafting in from gator-guarded shores. If the person is lucky enough to have Martha, the tenured g...

Mourning the Child. Fenn Delaurenti A tulip stands alone in a meadow Breathing deep the crisp clear air The sun beams down, It’s a comforting warmth. An embrace from all sides, Tight as muscle contrac...