Spring 2018 Issue Released


Interview: Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon & Rebecca Gayle Howell

Appalachian Heritage talks to Sonja Livingston

Appalachian Heritage talks to Sonja Livingston

Take This Leaf

. . .read these leaves in the open air every season, every year of your life. –Walt Whitman Open to air and sky, one feels none other than small, a particle, a part, a leaf, a blade of a great whole. Feel the rustle, stir, and hum as all moves together,give…


Sun-dappled drowsy fawns sprang up at every turn of the trail last spring. The doe deposited them, always apart, in thickets, brush piles, honeysuckle warrens, collected them at day’s end. I often saw them in shadows, suckled in the gloaming,


I waved my hand over the patch, but made no shadow in the place. —Maurice Manning The chemo clouds and veils thought, a stream hits a rock dam, splashes, diffused, lost but to weeds and mud. A reader cannot read, follow the course of thought through a chapter, the flow…


September arced across the mountains, a warm hay-breeze swirled among the graven stones, nudged faded oak leaves to chatter, stirred the scent of carnations and the sharp odor of mums that rose from that patch of turned earth. The day a mountain postcard, dogwoods rusted at woods’ edge behind the…

Berry Patch

It was not so much that Herbert was gone, although she missed him, but how he’d done it, that bothered Irene. Sometimes she could go a whole day and not think about him, at least not to dwell on it. But her brother John insisted on coming over from Richmond…


Booth Chandler still thought of the Issaqueena Star as his newspaper even though he’d long since sold it to the assholes in Virginia—and grown rich and fat in the process. Now he had an opportunity to become some kind of executive with our parent company, which I’d been waiting for him to…