Author Archives: littlecabpress

Part 2: Hope Once Lost, But Not Forgotten By Brandon Muhlestein Time. A seemingly infinite resource, yet one that we never seem to have enough of. It’s something that you can try to partition and save away, but no matter … Continue reading →

By G Burton Voss Jeffery Ellis went room to room with his inspection. He took his time in each place: the galley, beacon stores, harpoon racks, living quarters, an acceptable hold, and, most importantly, the bridge. The space tug was … Continue reading →

by Mark Enlow Cecil Bean knew the tarnished goose that warmed in his hands did not belong in his brass animal collection nor anyone else’s. The thought, ‘put it back down, now!’ came from so deep a place in his … Continue reading →

I’ll Sleep Better Tonight! by Taia Joy Flake Sleeping on a dragon’s back sounds like fun, but Devlyn learned quickly that her best friend’s dragon form was about as comfortable as a bed of rocks. Rocks that snored smoke. It … Continue reading →

By Nora L Taylor Within a lonely castle upon distant plains, there resided a young boy who slept in a tower by night. By day his thoughts turned far away as he looked through the distant haze to the forest … Continue reading →

By Paulette Gehlker Long ago, dogs could talk to people and other animals. They could say, “Good morning, I’m hungry, scratch my ears,” and other helpful phrases. The only problem was that Dogs could not keep secrets. They spread gossip … Continue reading →

By Chloe Crismon Every summer of my childhood included trips to grandma’s house. The drive was crickety and bouncy for a little one, trying the big seat for the first time, and traveling for a half hour felt like eternity. … Continue reading →

By Joe Nunes The summer of 1972 was a season of adventure for me. At 18 years old, I had just finished my first year of college at Brigham Young University. Instead of heading back home to San Diego, I … Continue reading →

Flash Fiction by Kathy Stauffer Riders on pale horses—black coats flapping in the wind, dust billowing behind hooves—cross the horizon. Sage brush scuttles on the flatlands, Joshua trees hover near a singular small broken-down cabin. I scurry to this shanty, … Continue reading →

By Bobbie Lahren Grob The Compass, August 2022 subscribe to the print copy- https://square.link/u/8zXudXlR