Straitjackets Magazine

Editorial

Momma wiped her hands on her apron, opened the closet and picked up the shotgun.

I was a student commercial pilot feeling my stuff.

Of the choices available, I found the hat, above all else, the most expressive piece of clothing.

I can't remember when I first started thinking of myself as the Don't Girl

I walk to my chair Take her in my arms.

I checked in at the lab for blood work and was told I was number 65.

Quickly, she slipped under a heap of paper and cardboard overflowing from a pack of trashcans at the corner.

I woke up cuddled underneath a stack of blankets, gazing mindlessly into a dark room.

She showed me vases that had been made to look like the ones she had dug up from a site in Greece.

The huge homemade cinnamon rolls were drenched in warm sugar frosting, and the coffee, fresh, hot, and ten cents a cup.

Each morning I wake up on the road to Oz, A rusty tin man waiting for a can of oil

Most victims aren't stalked by their assailants.

Though aware of his dirty, disheveled appearance he vowed to make an effort by talking to the first person he'd met.

At Mike's Magic Burgers, the food and some of the people are magic.

It started innocently enough in childhood with a simple "See Spot run." What would Dick and Jane do next?

A vagrant breeze, tugging at tall grasses and dancing through the trees

Summer 2017

Whenever it grew dark in the Dangerous Forest, Mother used to say that the trees themselves were frightened.