Down at the Dock

Stone Soup Magazine
February 2019

Rebecca Mitkus Wishnie

By Rebecca Mitkus Wishnie Down at the dock when all is dark, my footsteps clang and echo on the metal corridor above the ocean. Filling the near...

The world is black No moon No stars As black as ink from a squid The air is damp And moist My clothing is wet and cold Up against my skin I can hear only My...

What lies in the darkest corner in the mind of a boy? His greatest fears. Dark, looming, ominous shadows of everyday objects Turn into alarming frights. Howls,...

The air is thick The leaky faucet in grandma’s bathtub is going drip, plop, drip, plop There is a small glimpse of light coming from the crack in my door My...

Thunder crashes. My world is turned into a dark abyss from which I will forever fall. Shadows creep around me as if monsters waiting for the right...

In this real world I can feel the long grass Brush my knees And hear the soft whisper Of the breeze calling Go home, go home As the daylight turns to night. In...