by Joanna M. Weston

Passing cars lit the road ahead. Spike walked fast, thinking of the evening’s hockey game: he’d made good passes and Coach said he could stay on the A-team. The growl of a pick-up approached fast behind him. A thumping blow arched him backwards. The stars exploded. He flew into silence.


Joanna M. Weston has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty years.

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