Contents
— A diary reopened, rewritten, for that reason, A page I could not flip from, a chapter from that page. The soft folds of paper were damp, and smudged was the...
— I told myself I’d left it all behind, My cup of life filled up with laughter, lace, But I, far from cured, and far from refined. I swore no hand...
— Not even willing to recall yesterday, every mind strains to remember a bland moment, when forced to cope with times now stuck, the morrow would not let it slip away,...
— I stepped off the bus, savoring the taste of my toothpaste. I’ve been getting better at brushing my teeth and hair recently, since starting my meds. Obviously, it was expensive,...
— For most of my childhood, my grandmother's bright red Camry smelled faintly of J. perfume, old leather and sometimes McDonald's fries that we had eaten hours earlier but somehow could...
— I hauled a moon-knife from my leather waist belt and chopped up the last strands of weeds from the dry, crispy earth. It’s really supposed to be called a sickle,...
— There once was a vase with a flower, rosy and plump, like peaches, sweet and soft, slim like a sprout of elegant green, with a graceful figure. She lived in...
— I had no official business near the couch, which is why my head was held high, like an austere national security inspector. I was not a busybody. I bowed to...
— Awaiting the rush means I must marinate in restlessness. I’m reminded that once a consciousness slides, it receives a static shock from the Playground Gods in order to bring it...
— She sat as they stood, waiting. The seated passengers in her row stood and drifted to rows behind to make space.The driver’s hand twitched and tensed.She sat.The driver inhaled sharply,grimly...
— The child who runs down the street is clothed in sandals. They cling to her toes, strapped, slapping on the concrete gravel that grits the bottom of the shoes. The...
— One of my primary goals redesigning the Stone Soup website was to make the site feel more like a book. Stone Soup has long said that we show respect for...
— As we lay in the sharp blades of wet grass You told me that Theoretically We all turn to walls When we don’t know I’m not quite sure I understood....
— “The air was redolent with the smell of garlic,” is what I typed into the notes program on my phone an early Sunday already hot morning in Taipei, Taiwan, July,...
— 4:48 iMessage Today 4:48 AM i wrap my hand around my wrist, feel my heartbeat run my fingers up and down my skin, skin i wish i could crawl out...
— Crippled Detectives A Novel in Twenty-Five Chapters by Lee Tandy Schwartzman, age 7 Stone Soup Magazine · Children’s Art Foundation Chapters Editor’s Note Chapter One: A Sad Trial Chapter Two:...
— ← Crippled Detectives Chapter One A Sad Trial “Oh!” said Sylvia suddenly. “What?” said Lee alarmed. “Oh I have to go out with you to get firewood,” replied Sylvia. “Oh...
— ← Crippled Detectives Chapter Two More Badness After that they went away. They went to France because they had better doctors there. One day Lee used crutches to find Ben...
— ← Crippled Detectives Chapter Three Clues “Now we better get to the top of this,” they said. “Now to find out his phone number,” said Lee. “Let me see how...
— ← Crippled Detectives Chapter Four We Fail Suddenly the guard woke up, saw their footprints, and pressed the alarm button. We heard it and hunted for the door to the...