Amarillo Bay Contents
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We are pleased to present the third issue of our tenth year, published on Monday, 18 August 2008. We hope you enjoy browsing through our extensive collection of fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry! (See the Works List to discover the nearly 400 works in our collection, including the ability to search through the issues.)
FictionBedfellow by Jeannie Galeazzi Waking up in a strange bed in a strange apartment was, for Kelli Withers, a first in her 37 years, as was yesterday evening's bubbly conversation with a strange man in a bar, as was last night's one-night stand with said man, as was this morning's hangover. And the thing of it was, Kelli realized (after grinding her fists into her eyes to clear the throbbing gauze), she wasn't even in a bed, but on a smelly old couch. Naked. With only her coat for a blanket. continue
Cambria by Terry Sanville Ian McLeod was a tough Scotsman, he had to be. He had worked the family's dairy farm with his widowed father and two older brothers on the Isle of Man and had survived twenty-two bitter winters. When the Kaiser made war in Europe, he found himself, along with a lot of other Scots, on a boat sailing up the Kiel Canal in search of Jerry. He'd been lucky and had lived through it, almost getting by without a scratch. Only a bothersome flesh wound to his right thigh from a 30-calibre machine gun had slowed him down, had taken him off the front lines where everybody seemed to be dying a muddy senseless death in the rain-swollen trenches. continue
Comfort Food by Deanna Northrup "It's going to be okay, Babe," Bruce said, glancing into the rearview mirror. "I'll get you there and then you'll feel better."
Carolyn's reaction looked like nothing more than a grimace, though he chose to think she was attempting to smile. This trip was hard on her but she couldn't fault him for trying to save her life. Could she? continue Rare Books by Curtis Harding The rain dripped onto the façade of the air conditioner. Every now and then a particularly powerful gust of wind would disrupt the drumming, throwing the rhythm off in some random staccato of beats. Caitlin's left hand clutched at the ink-stained fabric of her jeans. The already pale skin turned white. It was only a matter of time before she went insane. continue
Unaccompanied Cello by Howard Waldman Nobody knew for sure why the patients in the Fuller Rehabilitation Center, deprived of so many other things, were denied television as well. They could have done with a little entertainment, though, after painful sessions in the brace-fitting unit, repeated efforts to bend their elbow or knee an extra fraction of an inch, confrontation with gravity after marvelous mobility in the hydrotherapy pool, the periodic ache of a lost limb, and the related ache of a lost love. This last pain was particularly acute on Sundays, when they stared out of windows for hours in hope of a visit that seldom materialized. continue
Creative NonfictionTwo Tall Tales by Gail Fail 1. Slime Molds, Daddy Pop and Outrageous Texas Stories
When I was a little girl in Texas, my grandfather told me much about the natural world. He was a great gardener, and had a wealth of biology knowledge that he had acquired from reading books on natural history. Most of his plants were stolen, in the fine tradition of guerilla gardening that I still continue. He lived with us as I grew up, so I had the focused attention of an adult who was patient, never too busy, and eager to impart what he knew about biology. The kids all called him Daddy Pop, a combination of what my Mom called him ("Daddy") and the affectionate "Pop" that my father called him before he ever began courting Daddy Pop's daughter. continue PoetryBecoming Himself by Brandi Wells My cat is growing into another cat. He has been eating his own fur, continue
Cracked Corn by Susan Wingate it was the cracked corn
on the floorboard in the cup holder on the passenger seat and scattered in the seams of the console that irked you continue How Equivocal Is the Drift of Things by Oliver Rice Here we are in the present.
This is the patriarch, this the matriarch. These are their sons and daughters and those their further offspring, cousins through the fourth generation of tots, a clan capriciously dispersed about the city and as distant as Detroit and San Antonio, its integrity eroded by affinities for inlaw clans and by disturbances in the double helix. continue A Place Poem by Carolyn Srygley-Moore If I could only remember my homeland, describe
its purple iris unfolding like prophecy, describe its state bird, or the Susquehanna lapping its sandy banks like truths continue 
Works List
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Volume 10 Number 3
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