15.3.20the sky isBLUE + OPEN. if I couldgive it to you,I would,SWEETHEART. sitting with allwhat is + beingOK. coming homeTO THE SELFamidst the mess. IT’S JUSToneof these lives. THE SOULwhispered. EARTHtrying toself-regulate. CAN YOUblame her. is this theroaring twenties/ WHAT. . 19.3.20whenthe inside spacesHEAL, the outside spacescan do so,TOO. . EARTHis not kiddinganymore. . +…
Author: SHARE
If he had a daughter, by Amy Makortoff
I was a woman that still felt like a girl. I was out having fun. I danced until my legs were jelly. I left the club on feet I couldn’t feel anymore. I heard a familiar voice yell at me from a truck across the street. I knew I wasn’t in any shape to drive…
2 Poems, by Benjamin Goluboff
Googling the Dead It seems at first like a way of keeping them,of giving them a place in the here and nowyou may pretend not to know they have lost.They can be in this way more quick than dead,their results robust, their vitals vital still.And you may fool yourself in this way,until their footprint contracts,…
Escaping the Inheritance, by C. Christine Fair
Sitting across the rotting planks of a water-worn picnic table, Chris glowered at Bob and strained not to hear him. She studied his ruddy face with his pale, hooded, sky-blue eyes. His face was unmistakably and disappointingly redolent of her own. In anger, her mom would shake her head slowly and deliberately while growling in…
Until I couldn’t Feel Anymore, by Xandria Browning
“But why?“ Mother didn’t answer me. She just kept putting on pants after pants until my legs grew twice their size “But it’s summer, why do I have to put on all my clothes?” Still no answer. I saw a white flash come through the window and mother tensed. She started hurrying me out the…
The Gallery of Kateryna Bortsova
Kateryna says, “A statement that a human shall study and develop oneself for a whole life impresses me very much. I consider that a talented person is obliged to find out something new throughout their life, to reach new more tops. If it ceases to develop oneself it will have nothing more to say to…
Interview with author, Shane Cashman
“That’s what progress is to me – when multiple people from actual diverse backgrounds and actual diversity-of-thought can come together and at least understand one another, and then move forward towards some type of shared goal.”
Fired, by Thais Vitorelli
“You should take this extra glass of champagne,” said the owner of the company for which I was interning, pointing at me during a birthday celebration. “You Brazilians sure drink a lot.” It was probably the first time in my life I was unhappy about being served alcohol inside the workplace. When I learned I…
2 Poems, by Mark Kessinger
My Romance with Time Each morning. Every morning.Wake and name the day.Check the sheets for dreams.Stretch like I haveall forever. Parade thru this temple ofmini museums disguised asartifacts from other times.Greet them all.Let them know you. Breathe like it’s my first time.Every time.And the time after that. Flood the house with light.Go out and call…
Holiday in Cambodia, by Kendra Nuttall
I like planning. When I was 11 years old, I decided to get an English degree. When I was 14, I made a plan to graduate college before the age of 21. I listed potential schools to attend and which courses to take, ending up with complete plans for at least four different schools. I…
A Label, by Jocelyn Saunders
I hate being alone. Well I guess that’s not entirely true. It’s not like I constantly need attention or even like hanging out with people. It’s being alone with nothing to do to distract, being alone as in sitting in bed when everything’s dark breathing heavily as you think of…
Twenty-four, by Molly Fennig
The Forever 21 photoshoot would’ve been bad enough without Brittany there, lips permanently pouted, coated in So Hot Pink gloss. I’d known her for years. Through Gerber baby commercials, toddler pageants, Seventeen magazine shoots, Miss Junior Illinois, and now a shared contract with Chicago Models. Still, it was hard for me to be around her…
3 Poems, by Tanner Howard
I Remember the Night Peaceful(For my Aunt, that she finds peace). I remember the night peaceful before it broke,before the constellations cracked and splitin empty, white-blue shards, fogged up with stars,and the dark dripped in through the runny seams. When You slipped away, left us with nothingbut a phone call. And my uncle made thatat…
Mom, by Nina Eddinger
Mom always smelled like that sticky brown stuff that caked on the bottom of her pink purse. Sometimes, when she would lean in so close that her hair would brush across my cheeks, I could smell the stuff in the little bottle she sprayed on herself. That smelled like flowers. She didn’t usually hug me….
3 Poems, by Rc deWinter
being feet swathed inseaweed sitting at the edge ofthe sea Ishiver in the cold Aprilwind gazing at stars they mock me a singer withouta song adancer withno partner a soldierwithout a weapon but the seasings for me the wavesconstruct afortress roundmy feet and in this safe placeI have no need of a weapon the candle…
Welcome to SHARE!
SHARE is an online literary journal that publishes fiction, non-fiction, essays, poetry and visual artwork, and features a new artist each month. SHARE is a space for everyone. Whether a writer, contributor, or someone who loves to read, SHARE is a place to come and create meaningful connections, build relationships and contribute something of substance…
Fear and Joy, by David Speer
Fear is the only emotion I remember feeling as I sat outside the operating room in our hospital’s labor and delivery area. Fear of not knowing what was happening around me. In nine months of pregnancy, my wife and I had never anticipated a Cesarean, and we were certainly unprepared for what was to come….
In Pursuit of the Sun, by Liza Bencheikh
I took a train across the US, from upstate New York to the southern coast of California. I’d like to say that there was some great metaphorical reason for embarking on that 3,000-mile journey, but there was none. It was not an allegorical journey, but rather one that reflected nothing more than the raw spirit…
The Gallery of J. Ray Paradiso
Painted & Photographed by J. Ray Paradiso A confessed outsider, Chicago’s J. Ray Paradiso is an award-winning artist who holds graduate degrees in both Business Administration and Philosophy. A recovering academic, Paradiso is an experiMENTAL writer, painter and street photographer. Inspired by American street photojournalists, Garry Winogrand and Vivian Maier, Paradiso’s paintings and photographs have been shown in theatres…
Watching Her Chase The Dragon/ Watching The Dragon Catch Her, by Shoshana Maniscalco
Auditorium On a frozen night in March of my junior year of high school, my mother drags me to a lecture about drugs and the teenage brain. It is meant for parents, and I am one of the only students there. For what seems like a lifetime, I listen to the middle-aged woman drone on…
Persevere, by Ariana Aboulafia
Ariana is no stranger to doctors. Like many others, Ariana was born with an immune deficiency, making her susceptible to illnesses such as whooping cough, scarlet fever, and so on. From a young age, she spent more time than a child should sitting upon the crinkling white paper of a doctor’s examination table, cold with…
Coming Through, by Michael Lemieux
I was twenty-nine-years-old when I had my first panic attack. It was October of 2012, two months before my thirtieth birthday. At that time, I was living with my girlfriend, Anna. Hurricane Sandy was coming. It was all over the news, but no matter how many precautions I took, I was unprepared for what was…
Jordan Had Enough, by Lilly Donalds
It was Jordan’s first day of her second semester at SUNY New Paltz when she first noticed Greg. She was in the dining hall waiting on the food line with her roommate when he caught her attention. He was standing by the dishwashing station adjacent to her on the other side of the room. Jordan…