Stories Poems Essays

Shoulder Season

Our names were announced over the booming horde hailing the local girl making history. The bell tolled.

I feel safe and warm, and I drift to sleep with the smell of apples, sugar, and butter gently filling my nose.

I am drawn to the train tracks and find the memory haunting. Because that’s how you died, my little brother.

I lay down on the couch ushered by my anguish. The clock ticks, backwards. I’m four again.

I ache to whisper the fullness of my heart, but can’t decode it swift enough to speak. It’s a foreign language.

The late November grey hung in curtains all around them. And of course, greyest of all, on Leonard’s mood.

My father puts his hands on my shoulders. I haven’t seen him in ten years, but he looks good.

We’re pleased to announce the release of Issue 9 of the Dreamers Magazine, including the winners of our Haiku Contest. Get your copy now!

Congratulations to the winners of the 2021 Dreamers Haiku Contest! We just love this haiku contest! Read the winning haiku…