Chipped cups and a hundred and one pups
True love’s kisses and three magic wishes
Glass heels and spinning wheels
Slippers of ruby red and a house made of gingerbread
A princess named after snow and a jar containing an enchanted rose
A hatter that’s mad and a wolf that’s big and bad
A prince that croaks and a beautiful red cloak
A boy crying out in defiance and another boy defeating a giant
Straw that turns into golden twine
It all began with “Once Upon A Time”.


Author Bio:
Ashley Virginia Matthew is a graduate of Cedarville University. She majored in Journalism and has two minors in Creative Writing and Bible. She currently lives in Fairfield, Ohio and enjoys writing fiction and poetry. Ashley has been writing as a hobby since childhood and enjoys writing on a variety of genres, from fantasy to romance. Her writing is influenced by a vast majority of topics, including sports, personal life events, historical figures and more. 

In her spare time, Ashley also enjoys traveling, exercising, watching professional wrestling, blogging and listening to music. Some of Ashley's previous writing experience includes being a staff writer for KayfabeKickout.com, an intern reporter for The Pulse-Journal, a reporter for two collegiate student newspapers and a reporter for her high school student newspaper. Ashley's writing goals include someday being a published novelist and to always strive to improve at her craft for writing. 

It was a rustic door. An antique one. When I first pulled it to enter the house, it creaked loudly. It sounded angry, upset. I wondered why? 
    I wanted to replace it with a brand-new wooden door. But each time, I failed. Other important things arose, other expenditures—new curtains, pillow covers, bed linen, medicines for mother-in-law, dowry money for sister-in-law, a visit to my parent’s house or his. At the end, the door stayed unrepaired, unchanged.
    Two years went by in this house. The house looked ancient, too shabby. Putting too many colours on the walls made it look like a painting that had gone horribly wrong. 
   Akram told me to stop ruining the house. He sounded a bit irritated. Work problems. He had plenty nowadays. He barely shared his troubles with me. I didn’t press him either. What would I do to listen to them? Though sometimes it felt unfair. Weren’t couples supposed to share everything? But at other times I thought it suited us best, each with our own preoccupations in our own space: he in his room with his files, me on the couch with a book or two, gazing outside.
    I changed the position of the couch a little, it faced the main door now. And I had two views to enjoy, one through the window; the other through the door. Since the latter was mostly kept shut, I stared at its greenish, rustic wood. It needed to be repaired or replaced.


Author Bio:
Marzia Rahman has an MA in English Literature from the University of Dhaka. She is a creative writer and translator. Her articles and book reviews have been published in The Daily Star. Her article Bringing Light into Darkness published in 2008 has won her Child Sight Foundation Journalist Fellowship Award for best report. Her stories and flash fictions have appeared in The Daily Star, Dhaka Tribune, Six Seasons Review, and online journals like Five of the Fifth, 101 Words. She has done a couple of distance learning courses under London School of Journalism and Oxford University. In 2017, she has participated in The International Literary Translation and Creative Writing Summer School organized by BCLT in the University of East Anglia at Norwich. Currently she is working on her debut novel. She believes there is no end of learning. Writing is her greatest passion and she hopes to be recognized as a good writer in the future. 

​There is a tree within the dreams
I dream when night is coming on.
My friend is standing near, it seems.
I turn toward her but she is gone.
The pink blooms on this tree are high,
too high for me to reach alone.
I want to pick them and I try,
but cannot pick them on my own.
My friend is there to help me get
the blossoms there, and more beyond--
This is what I'd hoped, and yet
I turn to see that she is gone.
I think about her in the spring,
the blossoms high and birds on wing.


Author Bio:
Carol Louise Moon is a Northern California poet published in regional journals, as well as state poetry society journals in three states. She loves working with poetry forms, as well as free verse. She believes she inherited the gift of poetry from her Great Grandfather who was both a minister and a poet. She attends several poetry workshops and believes it is the best way to hone the craft. Carol Louise's son writes lyrics for music, as well.

I look for the apocalypse in your eyes
find comfort in its presence. You are always prepared
for the end, always have an exit plan
the perfect argument for leaving it all.

I am an eager apostolate at your knee
learning the paths one must take to break free
from damnation, from love. My own eyes
are a roadmap of buried condemnations, I
always keep them closed when we kiss.


Author Bio:
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Plainsongs, The Long Islander, and The Nashwaak Review. Her newest poetry collections are A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press), In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing), I'm in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.), The Yellow Dot of a Daisy (Alien Buddha Press), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (Cyberwit.net), and Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing).