We are dedicating this issue to the late Michael Wayne Holland, a beloved member of Laguna Writers for eight years. His recent loss sent a ripple of sadness throughout the community; he will be missed. Thankfully, his voice will live … Continue reading →

Once I thought I saw God while driving through Omaha, Nebraska prisms of light shining, but it was just a halo in my rear view mirror, the sun gleaming through droplets of rain after a fierce thunderstorm.

A racket passes through, volcanic and backwards, in this little room where the senior home dessert cart is assembled: glistening pudding dishes, slick Jell-O bowls, all spaced just so, to allow maximum capacity with minimal slippage. It is a kind … Continue reading →

It flew quickly around my living room. Small, black, bigger than an insect. A bird? A bat! But it was daytime. It was a bat, and it was darting about. I remembered last time there was one in the house. … Continue reading →

Wind. Hot dry constant. Tibetan prayer flags blown to rags on my fire escape. Heavy dirty laden with city soot. Heavy with prayers upon prayers, most un-grantable, unanswered, unfulfilled. Un-fulfillable. Who or what can grant my wish, the wishes, all … Continue reading →

I was at a writers conference in Seattle, Washington, when I heard my favorite definition of success. It was given by a woman who had published three novels. “But I bet you never heard of me. Has anyone here ever … Continue reading →

He traced his way “zipper-like” across the dry desert landscape leather boots pressing the stench of gasoline into the heat of the afternoon. His tiny toy truck kicking up plumes of dust and then spinning them back into the thick … Continue reading →

The couple sat on either end of the down-filled loveseat, their legs turned away from one another, their heads looking straight ahead at the Michael Fassbender-lookalike who was their marriage counselor. “So Alice, last week you expressed frustration that Sam … Continue reading →

It will happen, perhaps on a Monday morning or Friday evening, the weather might be mild or chilly with a chance of rain. There will certainly be breaking news; an earthquake killing hundreds in a far-away land, another movie star … Continue reading →

Shuffle, slide. Swing beat. My hand’s on the ruffled red waist of her dress. Rock step. Brown and white wingtips scuff the floor. Slacks twist and billow, and our eyes spark electric. Time stops.