Joy Mahar is an emergent writer living on the outskirts of Detroit. Her work has appeared in Plainsongs Magazine, Writer’s Digest’s Red Heart/Black Heart, and Eunoia Review. If her garden is blooming, she’s out back.
This Ten Word Story was typed on a manual Triumph DeJUR typewriter, c. 1957. Let’s call her Trudy. Humble and sturdy and oh so beautifully balanced.
They received a much needed shower this morning: bare branches of trees, Fall's fallen crushed leaves,…
“Persephone is having sex in hell.” –“Persephone the Wanderer,” Louise Glück This isn’t hell, but…
“Again.” “Again.” “Again.” “Once more.” Her son slid down the wall onto the hallway floor.…
He told my Ma I was too young to know what a tumor felt like.…
“Don’t leave the backyard, Jodi!” “Okay, Mommy, I won’t!” That last conversation echoed in Sarah’s…
Seemingly out of nowhere, although we are hiking with the dog, my daughter asks me,…
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