Chapter Seven May 1926 On the walk to his office from his packed club below, Sterling was in a fine mood, thinking about the last few months. A loving wife on his arm. A booming business. More dough than he could spend. Then, he opened the door and froze at the sight before him. A raven-haired woman, adorned in a green silk dress stretched over her perfect body, stood with her back to him. If he hadn’t just seen his wife...

Welcome to "The Roaring Twenties" — a time of Prohibition, prostitution, and social change. Little did the lawmakers know that banning alcohol would increase criminal activity and bring wealth to bootleggers in places like New York City. Chapter One August 25th, 1926 Storm clouds gathered in the sky, perhaps foreshadowing the darkening mood of moneyed club owner Mr. Sterling Rossini, sitting behind his richly-carved mahog...

After the flames died out, only the ash remained. Specs snowed down slowly onto my body as I stood in the barren remnant of my past. My burning eyes searched for anything salvageable amongst the wreckage, praying for a partly scorched photograph or even a burnt wooden beam yet only the ash remained. Days cascaded into weeks and bled into months as I stayed stuck in stasis. My rage pummeled away a little of the residue. My...

At bedtime, Daddy smells like cigarettes. He smokes one out in the garage every night after supper. Mommy calls it his filthy habit. He doesn’t let me go out there with him. He tells me to never, ever smoke. If I start smoking, it’ll never let me go. That’s what Daddy says. Mommy smells like bubbles. She does the dishes after we eat, while Daddy is smoking his cigarette. That what she smells like: the soap from the dishes...

When I’m drowning, they are distant and skeptical When I’m sailing, they gather to observe the spectacle My cheeks used to be made of roses, my pupils were once starred How did I become just a chew toy to use and discard? They don’t savour their words, they just spit them Basking smugly in the fruits of their mayhem I love them when they don’t, they disgust me when they do I am cast to play both the vixen and the shrew Th...

1 THE TERRIBLE TIGERS “Ouch,” said Gavin as he fell to the ground. He slowly got up, rubbing his arm. I’m never going to catch the ball, he thought, feeling defeated. Gavin and the rest of the Willow Elementary School Tigers football team practiced on the field behind their school. “Team! What is going on?” yelled Coach Jackson. “You’re playing more like kittens than tigers! No one is tackling anybody, and no one is catch...

1 THE ASSIGNMENT The bell rang at Willow Elementary School. Gavin and his classmates bumped into each other, trying to reach their seats. Miss Sweets, their history teacher, walked in, dressed in her usual flowery dress. Her curly hair was pulled back from her face in a gold barrette, showing off her bright blue eyes and contagious smile. The kids loved her because she was very kind and made history fun. “Hello, sweet pea...

1 THE BULLY Gavin slowly poked his head through the bush and looked both ways. Where did he go? thought Gavin. I hope I lost him. “Gavin the Goober! Gavin the Goober!” yelled Tommy. “Time to pay up!” Oh no, he’s still after me. Tommy stood just a few feet away with fists clenched and a snarl on his face. He was the meanest kid in the whole fourth grade, maybe even all of Willow Elementary! He liked to take lunch money fro...

1971, New York City I scraped the heel of my boot on the concrete, afraid to look at what I’d stepped in on the dimly lit street that smelled of piss and booze. Sounds came from the shadows and crevices even a cop wouldn’t dare investigate. And especially that night, I kept my head down and walked with purpose, something I’d learned when venturing into the city's seedy underbelly. West 42nd Street was part of my beat, and...

The 9-year-old Maryam sat on the carpet, dissatisfied with the chore she was given. She stared at the large dresser in front of her, which her mother had insisted she clean it out as a part of spring cleaning, saying it was high time she learned some responsibility. But all Maryam felt was resentment for this tedious chore, and the order seemed oppressive. She pulled open the first drawer, sending some dust into air. Insi...

I ache for you - For your fingers around my soul Touching me in all the ways that matter. Your voice around my heart Speaking in a language only we know. Your lips on mine Drinking in my love like it's the only water for miles. I ache for you - At night when the world is still and silent During the day when chaos reigns and reality kicks in In between when the world feels hazy and ethereal. I ache for you - In every possi...

Calvin lay in his bed, the once mischievous sparkle in his eyes now dim, replaced by the weight of years. His great-granddaughter, Lily, sat at his bedside, her little hands clasping his frail fingers. She didn’t understand the gravity of the moment, not fully. She only knew that her great-grandpa, who always told her the best tiger stories, seemed tired—tired in a way she hadn’t seen before. Calvin smiled weakly and turn...

Thirty-nine years old 1519 Master’s dead. Master’s dead! I still can’t believe it’s true. My stomach knots and coils while I drag myself along the winding, hidden passageways leading to his workshop within the bowels of the monastery. I steady myself before opening the door, thinking about the way I’d left him. Regret tugs at my heart. Once inside, I slowly walk around the room. Everything is still as I remembered, yet it...

At eighteen years young, I’ve learned something difficult to accept: if you love someone, at some point, you will feel pain. And I don’t mean a temporary pain like stubbing your toe; I’m talking about a pain that breaks you. “For Heaven’s sake, child, if you’re going to break, break with your beauty intact. You’re a mess, and we have somewhere to be.” That voice belonged to Mother. Mere hours ago, she poked her nose in my...

My mother collects photographs. She has more than I could ever count stored in antiquated albums and now in a nebulous electronic cloud somewhere in the sky. She says they remind her of people long gone or perhaps just far away. Memories that she holds dear. Flies in amber, frozen in that precise moment when the button is triggered and the lens opens, turning life into hundreds of little pixels. I once asked her if she kn...