Volume 16 Number 2


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In memoriam of the Charlie Hebdo editors and cartoonists murdered and in
tribute to those putting out the new edition, the
Daily Show on Jan. 6 ran the
Jean Jullien cartoon. Nine days later, Jon Steward came up with the
following report on free speech.



by Dan Beatty

I can still recall the blouse she was wearing the first time we got a good look.Ms. Giardino—her name exotic, the G pronounced like “Zsa,” as in “Zsa Zsa,”  as in Gabor—was our sixth
grade teacher. She was one part educator, one part caretaker, one part goddess. She was cool enough to let us call her Ms. G, but stern enough to make you mind her....


Scalped, 1981
by Janna Brooke Cohen

Jackson said he had the flu, again. The
flu meant that our father slept or smoked Hindu Kush all day in his room, and me and Siddhi knew to leave him alone for a while, a week or two, until he came out on his own with some new, exciting plan. We looted the many rooms of our house to scavenge supplies for marathon sessions of make-believe....


by Paul Colby

When he opened his eyes, Warren found himself in a hospital room.  A needle had been inserted in his left forearm, held there by a blood-clotted gauze bandage.  Urine-colored fluid coursed through a plastic tube that twisted its way from a plastic bag hanging on a turquoise apparatus, down to the needle in his arm....


The Longest Beginning
by Michael Peter Garza
We are beginning to end all over again.  Evening begins, and memories are emerging like scorpions from the sand, and eleven o clock passes by as a gentle numbness invades-waiting in our small dark bedroom-heavily draped over my still frame-crouching over the headboard; we do not touch, under a thin blanket, listening to the silence of heaven.  Resistance meets the scent of a summer breeze, and the senses fade into gravity.  Fear and injustice drift away.  Appetites and all desires are lost to the numbness.  Peace and serenity lie somewhere unformed...


Wild Tom
by Karl Harshbarger

Casey’s sitting in a room with four other boys and three girls.  The room is in the annex down the hallway from the main worship room of the Addison Lutheran Church.  The room doesn't look like a church room at all but more like a classroom over at the junior high.  Only a lot smaller.
Sally Carter, Betty Feinbach and Peggy Prost are sitting in the front row....

Sea Roots
by John Oliver Hodges

Gravy Eyes needed studio time—the plan was work hard, save dough, get Gravy a well-made CD to sell in Tallahassee. Or sell in Atlanta, GA, sell it there. Boy had talent. Carried his beat-up Harmony with him all up and down the shoulders of Highway 319, and along the banks of the Sopchoppy River. When Gravy played and sang, he arranged his body into relaxed-looking positions—another facet of his genius, the impression he gave off that what he did was plain rain, easy breezy...


by Gwynyth Lozier Mislin

Cooper went off to the bathroom to identify the crawling thing that had sent me shrieking into the living room.
It came straight at me, Cooper, I swear. It was a horrible, bizarre-looking thing. And huge!” I wondered if I should have sent him. He was getting so weak that an extra trip to the bathroom required more energy than he had to spare. However, I felt obliged to join him in the pretense...

Back to Nothing
by Jeffrey Rindskopf
My dim reflection warped before disappearing from the pitch-black coffee as I tossed in a scoop of powdered creamer. It twisted like smoke, turning the French roast an inoffensive light brown like it always does. The sandy-haired waitress asked me if I needed anything else in her stilted voice like she always does. No, nothing she could offer me....


by Tricia Warren
Bursting out of school, Ethan ambled down a short lane, then a narrower dirt path, where scarlet oak leaves bedazzled his head and the shadows frolicked underneath his sneakers. From many yards away, his mother, Claire, speculated that his perusal of this terrain was strategic rather than appreciative. But why was he preoccupied today? In the clearing, he slid a piece of paper from his back pocket, folded it, and hurled a paper airplane …


Watching My Grandmother Die
by Olivia de Winter

The smell is killing me. Damian says it is not too bad. And if he says so, he’s probably right. He is much more sensitive about these things than I am. Never liked to play with the dogs because of their smelly fur even when he was little.
Our grandmother is dying. One of her kidneys failed, and now her own body is poisoning her from within. The doctor said it would be two days max. But we know her better, and are not surprised that she is still holding on more than a week later...

Ice Cream, Dancing and the River
by Susan Pepper Robbins

In the summer of 1948, when I was turning six, we moved from a rock house with an apple and a sycamore tree in its long back yard near Washington D.C., to an old farmhouse on two hundred and sixty-seven acres in central Virginia on the James River. We were a family whose problems were just beginning and were made worse by the lies we told about them. ...


A Jewel Isn't Jewelry
by Lois Greene Stone

MG’ was the monogram etched into the round gold locket’s cover. I don’t remember anything else having my mother’s initials. I knew there were pictures secured by thin 14k ‘frames’, and made to fit each of the two small circles. Time was frozen. ...



Jillian Benedict:
Veins and Fingers


Chrystal Berche:
Spokes in the Wheel,
Bird Gods,
Until the End


Bethany F. Brengan:
Snow White Preserved,
It's Raining Men,
Whirligig Soldier


by Srinivas Mandavilli


by Ken Seide


To the Daughter I’ve Yet To Have
by Kristin Spooner 



Autumn-Winter 2014-15 Issue of SNReview (SNR) ISSN: 1527-344X--SNReview (SNR) is a literary journal of short stories, creative non-fiction, and poetry, founded in 1999. Member of the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP), Academy of American Poets (AAP). This work, meaning SNReview.org, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.