I'm a sucker for stories that skirt the edges of traditional narration, and I think this particular short story does just that: it's relaxed, it has a very conversational tone, and it drew me in early on because I felt a closeness with the narrator.

From "The Silence of Harold," by Pam Parker:

­For forty-four years we lived over our corner drug store in Haydenville.  We talked.  Maybe not as much as some couples, but Muriel was no fool.  That’s why I married her.  That and her ass, but that’s not really the point.  Some people talk out of their asses.  Ha.  Not my Muriel though.  She knew how I hated small talk.  Save words for when you need them, that’s what I always said.  Muriel sighed then, if she made any noise.

When her knees and hips got bad, then worse, we sold the store, to Carl Hendrickson, the last in a long run of pharmacists, packed up the stuff that we didn’t give away to Good Will and moved here.

Click here to read the full story.

Foundling Review's relatively new, but I think they're going to be around for a long time. The Web site is oh-so-easy to navigate and so far the editorial quality is top-notch. Not only that, the pictures are amazing. Here's a link to check them out.

Here's a link for the submission guidelines.

Cheers,

Ken Brosky