Are you planning on submitting to So to Speak’s annual contest for poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and visual art? If not, you should be! Our staff
It has been three years. She knows she is not dying. She is freeing herself from the confines of being human, from dragging around the
Hear me young women and heed my tale. There were once three sisters. Beautiful. Carefree. Made ugly. Turned into Gorgons who froze men’s souls. Of
One day, Mercedes Bernal went to work in a three-piece suit, carrying a long umbrella. A big orchid bloomed from her buttonhole; a thin mustache
Aimee did not intend to stalk her therapist. It happened, as these things do, somewhat naturally. One day she was taking a walk in her
In Leila’s Balkan country most people cowered in permanent unease. Anxious about the propuh, an ill-meaning air draft apparently possessed of ambiguously mystical but lethal
stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance The pitter-patter woke Sheila the first night. A rush of footsteps tumbled through her
When the half-moon, past a half night bent its light on the red-brown building,the misery, it quickened, the despair, it doubled, grim thoughts like fiends
When Patrice Hughes turned forty, her gift to herself was a week in Paris, alone. It was the Eighties, when the married women she knew
