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Your Hometown Station: A Vermont Radio Mystery By Nikki Knight

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  You need a local radio station. It could save your life. Anybody who’s ever been sitting in the dark waiting for information, or just a friendly voice from a battery-powered radio can tell you that. What you probably don’t know is the friendly voice on the other end is just as grateful for you. Or that we really save each other. I’d known since the New York hurricanes…but it really hit home during a March ice storm in Vermont. By then, I was no longer a bigtime DJ surrounded by a full staff of production folks -- just one scrambling multitasker at the board: owner, engineer, producer, and talent for the all-request “love songs at night” show. Despite everything I’d survived to end up in the studio that Saturday night, I was a little on edge. Ice storms scare me in a primal way my husband’s cancer, my layoff, and our divorce hadn’t. The sight of those glazed power lines and glistening trees made my gut twist like almost nothing else could. It’s not that I’m a delicate flow

Predators and Prey, fiction by N.M. Cedeno

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  H e was so focused on how many gold necklaces he could grab from the smashed display case that the distinctive cha-chunk of a pump-action shotgun behind his head almost caused Ziggy to faint. “You made a serious mistake, son.” The booming voice of the wrinkled, pink dude behind the glass counter was unnervingly loud. It reminded Ziggy of his grandfather, who would have tanned his hide if he knew what Ziggy was doing. Gramps had been loud too, though Ziggy never considered why that might be. Maybe old dudes with big ears and bumpy, misshapen noses were always loud to compensate for being ancient. “Drop the pistol, put down the necklaces, and face me,” the too-loud voice commanded. Ziggy did what he was told. Under his ski mask his face and head were soaked with sweat. The droplets trickled down his neck. The old dude came around the counter and collected Ziggy’s gun. “This thing is plastic. Is it a water gun? What the hell were you thinking?” Ziggy bit the inside of his cheek. H