FICTION

MARK L. KEATS | FICTION

2018-10-04T01:46:50+00:00

Some of the vendors stood and smoked, some joked with one another, their laughter slowly dissipating in the night; others sat; still, a few looked as if they had fallen asleep. It was late, a little past 10:30pm. An older woman with tired eyes and a lot of makeup waved to him, offered him a pamphlet with words he couldn’t quite understand. She moved onto to another person, handed out another pamphlet. He read the Korean below: “Jesus Christ saves.”

MARK L. KEATS | FICTION2018-10-04T01:46:50+00:00

VONETTA YOUNG | FICTION

2018-10-04T12:21:26+00:00

He was cute, but I liked his ambition more. He wanted to create his own tech start-up; he was just trying to figure out which problem he wanted to solve first, he said. He’d traveled throughout Europe on vacations with his family growing up. My mom and I had never been on vacation ever, except to go see Mee-Maw in New York when her health started failing. When I studied abroad, I was the first person in my family to travel outside of the country.

VONETTA YOUNG | FICTION2018-10-04T12:21:26+00:00

MELISSA CUNDIEFF | FICTION

2018-10-04T12:20:57+00:00

The dog that bit me was a stray scavenging on the street; I was eight years old. After letting go of my mother’s hand to embrace the dog around its neck, I only remember a few details.

MELISSA CUNDIEFF | FICTION2018-10-04T12:20:57+00:00

ASHLEY LOPEZ | FICTION

2018-10-04T00:55:06+00:00

When the doors of the Downtown A slide open, college couples exit—ping pong balls of intoxication bouncing into the night. You squeeze into the only vacant seat next to a man with his knees pressed together, oxforded feet crossed. He resides in the middle of a three-seat bench. His navy-slacked thighs press you into the partition.

ASHLEY LOPEZ | FICTION2018-10-04T00:55:06+00:00

CHRISTOPHER JAMES | FICTION

2018-10-04T00:48:01+00:00

This is my new gf. She doesn’t like where I live. Is it because of the fairy lights? I ask. She doesn’t say, she never says much, but she likes it more if we stay at her place, which is miles away. We go there after work sometimes, past a field with horses on the way. ‘Horses,’ I say.

CHRISTOPHER JAMES | FICTION2018-10-04T00:48:01+00:00

DEVAN COLLINS DEL CONTE | FICTION

2018-10-04T10:54:10+00:00

Emmy can see the interstate and the flashing colored lights of the Gold Club, the shadow of the bouncer by the entrance and the boisterous groups of men filing in with pockets full of singles. On the other side of the highway, a back street dead-ends into a Baptist church. The scent of the drive-in doesn’t reach this high. Instead it smells like rain and gas fumes from the traffic roaring by, looping the city, their taillights melting into a red-yellow stream.

DEVAN COLLINS DEL CONTE | FICTION2018-10-04T10:54:10+00:00

EMMA COHEN | FICTION

2018-10-04T00:46:10+00:00

I haven’t prayed in years, since high school when I prayed for a date to prom. When I used to pray I could feel a presence hanging above me, a great translucent presence high above, gooey, like a puddle of jello. I decide to try it out again.

EMMA COHEN | FICTION2018-10-04T00:46:10+00:00

JENNIFER DICKINSON | FICTION

2018-10-04T00:45:07+00:00

If only he could be Jonas Delvecchio, who lived in a real house just three bus stops away. Jonas had been adopted as an infant by an Italian couple who drove Porsches and took him skiing in Madrid every year. Because of his parents, Jonas knew things the other kids didn’t. Saline swimming pools didn’t dry out your skin as much as chlorine. The most comfortable pillows were made of down. Purebred poodles were better behaved than purebred Chihuahuas.

JENNIFER DICKINSON | FICTION2018-10-04T00:45:07+00:00

MICHELE LOMBARDO | FICTION

2018-08-30T10:08:22+00:00

T. rex roared, eyes flicking about in short, rapid movements consistent with a predator possessing heightened sensory abilities. It paused before us, head hovering fifteen feet above. It screamed, teeth long like fingers. Cassidy and I reflexively cowered, then laughed.

MICHELE LOMBARDO | FICTION2018-08-30T10:08:22+00:00

JASMINE SEALY | FICTION

2018-08-30T10:07:46+00:00

That night, Jezebel dreams that she forgot her purse on the bus. She chases the bus on foot from stop to stop, always a few feet behind, until it disappears around a bend. She wakes up aching. She feels like she has shed a layer of skin. She turns to David in half-sleep and when she speaks her voice cracks in the dark like static on wool. David pulls her closer to his chest. She says, “I’m always dreaming of losing things. I leave bits of myself behind wherever I go.”

JASMINE SEALY | FICTION2018-08-30T10:07:46+00:00

CHRIS LORRAINE | FICTION

2018-08-31T11:08:10+00:00

I see life lines and love lines like I’ve never seen them before. As I look, I know what they say. Suddenly I know how to read, like my daughter. This knowledge is no longer inaccessible to me.

CHRIS LORRAINE | FICTION2018-08-31T11:08:10+00:00

ALEX BEHR | FICTION

2018-08-31T11:40:36+00:00

he had made a pass at her on a rooftop that went horribly wrong because he thought she would think it was sexy if he put a cigarette out on his wrist like Darby Crash’s sycophantic girl fans, but it hurt like hell and she laughed at him and went into the bathroom to do some crank

ALEX BEHR | FICTION2018-08-31T11:40:36+00:00

RANDALL JONG | FICTION

2018-08-30T10:08:47+00:00

These joys should be enough evidence to prove, yes, he is happy. But why does this question keep appearing and spreading like pests? When Joe wakes up, three hours later, he discovers that he has just experienced a terrible dream that he cannot remember. Is it about Allison—no. Is it about The Store—no. Is it about doing something else other than grocery; is it about being someone completely different—maybe?

RANDALL JONG | FICTION2018-08-30T10:08:47+00:00

ARIEL SARAMANDI | FICTION

2018-08-31T11:24:20+00:00

Elise shook her head in reply. ‘You know, maybe I was a coward before. But now,’ she smiled, knowing how irritating her next phrase would be, and pleased she had come up with it, ‘but now I feel like my feelings have been cut away.’

ARIEL SARAMANDI | FICTION2018-08-31T11:24:20+00:00

JENNY BITNER | FICTION

2018-08-01T10:15:25+00:00

And that was when he introduced me to the concept of child sharing, an idea that he had evidently been rolling around in his head since he was in high school. He had the idea that we could find other people who wanted to have a share in our child—people we liked, who didn’t want their own baby.

JENNY BITNER | FICTION2018-08-01T10:15:25+00:00

JESSICA MALORDY | FICTION

2018-08-01T10:15:09+00:00

On the afternoon that the king’s herald arrived the goosegirls were not minding their geese. They were at the stream, barefoot and barelegged, the hems of their shifts knotted and clutched in their fists as they waded through the water. They made their way to the boulders at the center of the stream. Their hair, long and dark, hung free.

JESSICA MALORDY | FICTION2018-08-01T10:15:09+00:00

Kevin Joffré | FICTION

2018-07-31T11:45:50+00:00

Kathy Bates wasn’t actually the actress Kathy Bates, but a corpulent queen who was also in the bar performing right after Kelsi. She was feral. Her makeup was bright red and white, applied liked war paint. I could hear her screeching from backstage.

Kevin Joffré | FICTION2018-07-31T11:45:50+00:00

ASHLEY WREN COLLINS | FICTION

2018-08-01T10:15:12+00:00

Okay, so maybe it’s not from Finian’s Rainbow, but it’s always some obscure gem from the glory days of Broadway musicals and if not that, then the opposite – The Beatles or maybe even Mick in the Rolling Stones.

ASHLEY WREN COLLINS | FICTION2018-08-01T10:15:12+00:00

LILY WANG | FICTION

2018-07-31T11:39:09+00:00

My mother had spent summer bent over her miniature vegetable garden. She planted tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and beans. There was always a bowl of tomatoes on the dining room table; the rabbits ate everything else.

LILY WANG | FICTION2018-07-31T11:39:09+00:00

MARIA SABA | FICTION

2018-08-01T13:12:41+00:00

“Let me give her a kiss then,” my mother said. My heart sank; they don’t miss me, I thought. She lowered the blanket, caressed my hair, and hugged me gently. The sweet scent of forsythia from her hair filled my head. I yearned to clasp my arms around her, but she hadn’t insisted on taking me home because their ‘friends’ mattered more.

MARIA SABA | FICTION2018-08-01T13:12:41+00:00

RHIANNON RICHARDSON | FICTION

2018-06-30T16:58:33+00:00

It felt good though. I’d chill and fuck with Maurice on weekends. During the week, I could walk up and down the hall in school with Tyrell’s arm around my waist. He and I fooled around after school, before my mom came home from work. I had to make sure I was keeping him satisfied so he wouldn’t get suspicious or start asking questions.

RHIANNON RICHARDSON | FICTION2018-06-30T16:58:33+00:00

REBEKAH BERGMAN | FICTION

2018-06-30T16:50:06+00:00

And here—she’s just caught her husband putting on Rogaine. So, she thinks, she will not have to say it after all. She’s staring at him in the mirror, imagining the future of his baldness like a sunrise.She sees herself there also, her own hair, as it ages, becoming hopefully silver but probably gray.

REBEKAH BERGMAN | FICTION2018-06-30T16:50:06+00:00

MAX JACK-MONROE | FICTION

2018-06-30T16:58:25+00:00

I chose Madeleine as a tribute to the city that I’ve called home for the past four years. Yes, as in the orphan pelirrojita in the old house covered with vines. And yes, as in one of those little French cakes that kind of look like duckbills.

MAX JACK-MONROE | FICTION2018-06-30T16:58:25+00:00

JACKSON FRONS | FICTION

2018-06-30T17:15:12+00:00

My dad lives in London, where he works for a TV company. He manages all of their reality shows. Big Brother Norway, Survivor Sweden, Amazing Race Belgium, you get it.

JACKSON FRONS | FICTION2018-06-30T17:15:12+00:00

AMANDA OOSTHUIZEN | FICTION

2018-07-01T21:36:11+00:00

I find the white-eyed bird with the red beak halfway up a column of rock, and although he is dazed by the gathering heat of the day, I manage to coax him into the cage without difficulty. He is around a metre in height. He has grown since we last met and takes up most of the cage. I would like to feed him but I haven’t seen any mice for a while.

AMANDA OOSTHUIZEN | FICTION2018-07-01T21:36:11+00:00

OSCAR MANCINAS | FICTION

2018-06-01T15:48:44+00:00

"I don’t want to go out drinking with anyone. I want to drink, and for everyone to go bother Anna, instead. As the Phoenix desert glides by outside my window, I realize I haven’t seen Hermes or my home state in nearly ten years. His laugh is annoying as hell, but it also reminds me of a past life, I feel weirdly relaxed."

OSCAR MANCINAS | FICTION2018-06-01T15:48:44+00:00

JOSEPH CACERES | FICTION

2018-06-01T15:13:39+00:00

"All of a sudden I jumped in fright. My five-year-old cousin, Nina, was walking through the hallway like a resurrected corpse—the kind that search for brains in those low-budget movies we weren’t allowed to watch—and she crashed into me as I stood before the doorway of my father’s room."

JOSEPH CACERES | FICTION2018-06-01T15:13:39+00:00

ELEANOR R.F. JORDAN | FICTION

2018-06-30T14:18:56+00:00

"I could pretend that I’d like to make some sly comment about the tone of her legs or the nervous but somehow sexy pout on her face as she entered my closet-sized office– it seems appropriate somehow– but the truth is I find the idea nauseating. Call me new-fashioned, but I don’t care about your legs– I just want your credits. But I digress."

ELEANOR R.F. JORDAN | FICTION2018-06-30T14:18:56+00:00

BRITTANY ACKERMAN | FICTION

2018-06-01T15:50:18+00:00

"I was writing a movie script. I was taking calls about plotlines and character development in between shifts at the restaurant and singing hymns at Bible study. I was all in, as they say. I was all caught up, as it were. He wanted me to have a good time. When we walked into the lobby, a girl gave us waters with orange peels."

BRITTANY ACKERMAN | FICTION2018-06-01T15:50:18+00:00

NOAH WEISZ | FICTION

2018-06-01T15:53:35+00:00

"Grace backed into a corner near the door to keep practicing while the rest of us paired up. Two-person juggling, otherwise known as passing, is one of the things we do best at SOPWETT. Arms up, and down, and: one, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four…" "

NOAH WEISZ | FICTION2018-06-01T15:53:35+00:00

STEPHANIE JIMENEZ | FICTION

2018-04-29T10:39:38+00:00

Ricky brought two forty-ounce beers to the counter. Jonathan was tracing the hair of his chin strap. One day Ricky would grow facial hair like that too. He’d go even further, he’d grow a full beard and twist it into a point. He’d go wherever he liked and no one would dare kick him out.

STEPHANIE JIMENEZ | FICTION2018-04-29T10:39:38+00:00

PHOEBE GLICK | FICTION

2018-04-30T16:26:37+00:00

I remember when the macro eraser was itself contested for function. That was when the poets were still employed, and they were writing poems about justice. But then poetry was erased, so they started painting about justice.

PHOEBE GLICK | FICTION2018-04-30T16:26:37+00:00

LEAH JOHNSON | FICTION

2018-04-30T16:24:37+00:00

I wonder if we say we love each each other for ourselves or for the people we’re saying it to. Or if we do it because we know we’re running out of time, like we must share it for fear of never sharing it. Or if it’s just another way to say I see you. Another way to be seen.

LEAH JOHNSON | FICTION2018-04-30T16:24:37+00:00

COLTER RULAND | FICTION

2018-04-29T01:23:52+00:00

Her name was Florida though she had never been there. Her mother really liked the name, the state too, the oranges and sunrays it conjured. One day you’re gonna visit for me and you’re gonna love it, her mother would say.

COLTER RULAND | FICTION2018-04-29T01:23:52+00:00

CHRISTINE KANDIC TORRES | FICTION

2018-05-01T11:01:09+00:00

Early in my relationship with Justin, back when we would cut whole days of ninth grade and spend them burrowing into each other underneath bedsheets of whichever friend’s parents weren’t home that day, he’d told me that Hector had taught him how to masturbate in the fifth grade.

CHRISTINE KANDIC TORRES | FICTION2018-05-01T11:01:09+00:00

Ingrid Jendrzejewski | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

Of all human experiences, loss has the most intense redness. When a hope is expelled from our bodies, grief expands within us: to us observers, everything appears to be the colour of blood.

Ingrid Jendrzejewski | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

H.K. Williams | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

So banished to your room, curled up against the cold metal headboard you tried re-reading an old Nancy Drew. Instead you stared at the neighbour's dog as she ran up and down the red steps at the back of their house. She was the closest thing you had to a pet.

H.K. Williams | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

Jessica Johns | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

When my sister finds her eulogy, she’s really not impressed. And she should have been quite happy, I think, considering I managed to come up with so many nice things to say about her.

Jessica Johns | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

Valorie K. Ruiz | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

On his way to Alfie’s, Luisito stopped by the corner mart to pick up some Mickey’s. Forties on a noche like this, where the sol stays slaying skies until 8, there was nothing better.

Valorie K. Ruiz | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

Rani Neutill | Fiction

2018-02-27T10:43:12+00:00

Sunil gazed at Buku as they lay on a small cot that looked like a hospital gurney. A thick, sturdy mattress held their light weight, resilient and resistant to their shape, never bending to the sentient beings that occupied it.

Rani Neutill | Fiction2018-02-27T10:43:12+00:00

Gwaze Tafadzwa | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:36:53+00:00

He didn’t take and the lady looked at me like time being of the essence was a foreign concept to me. I was carrying everything I owned, of course time is of the essence. If it’s not for me, it’s not for anyone.

Gwaze Tafadzwa | Fiction2018-02-28T17:36:53+00:00

Ursula Villarreal-Moura | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:36:15+00:00

He returns every evening at 6 p.m. and asks if she's found a job yet. She has a part-time job, but it isn’t enough. Her husband expects her to work in a respectable office and wear high heels every day. He has a fantasy of them meeting at a pub for happy hour, both of them exhausted and full of work drama. Their twin martinis escape valves, sour tonics. 

Ursula Villarreal-Moura | Fiction2018-02-28T17:36:15+00:00

Aram Mrjoian | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:35:37+00:00

Our fear, then, was that all the swag came with an expectation of high quality. We couldn’t rely on improvisation forever. So on that fourth day, Sanders cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out to the crowd, “Does anyone have any screenwriting experience?”

Aram Mrjoian | Fiction2018-02-28T17:35:37+00:00

Chika Onyenezi | Fiction

2018-02-27T01:31:06+00:00

I had seen Arthur around for a while, at this particular station. Whenever I was coming back from work, at night, he stood there, smoking, and whistling through his trimmed moustache.

Chika Onyenezi | Fiction2018-02-27T01:31:06+00:00

Marian Ryan | It Has Been 70 Years…

2018-01-22T12:12:24+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] It Has Been 70 Years Since Eva Braun Was Incinerated Along with Her Underwear She takes the U-Bahn across town to visit him where he is cat-sitting for friends. [...]

Marian Ryan | It Has Been 70 Years…2018-01-22T12:12:24+00:00

Tim Raymond | The Leg

2018-01-22T12:11:43+00:00

I used my mom’s pink razor to shave my leg because I was too afraid to use Dad’s black one. I sat in the tub running warm water over my smooth calf. It was beautiful. That night, I rubbed my leg against my sheets until the pleasure of it was overwhelming.

Tim Raymond | The Leg2018-01-22T12:11:43+00:00

Marianna Nash | Many Oysters

2018-01-22T12:07:56+00:00

We walk past the old tenement where Anya’s great-aunt still lives, claiming the hole she tore in the world. Imagine if we all moved into Columbia Presbyterian! Someone probably has.

Marianna Nash | Many Oysters2018-01-22T12:07:56+00:00

Maddy Raskulinecz | Big Grins

2018-01-22T12:06:40+00:00

Jacob was trying to be alone with the alligator when his mother called him into the house for dinner. His mother didn’t know a thing about it; she didn’t even know the difference between an alligator and a crocodile.

Maddy Raskulinecz | Big Grins2018-01-22T12:06:40+00:00

Jessica Berger | Trophy

2018-01-22T12:03:29+00:00

He was my husband, but I called him dog. When he returned from the woods each passing dawn, from wherever it is that wild things go, he would whimper and scratch at the door.

Jessica Berger | Trophy2018-01-22T12:03:29+00:00

Jayinee Basu | Swimming Pool

2017-11-29T22:31:31+00:00

Biriyani jumped off the diving board and broke the surface of the swimming pool in a clean arc. Pale pink fluff rippled over the pool. Her legs kicked a trillion tiny dark blue jewels into the air that melted back into water.

Jayinee Basu | Swimming Pool2017-11-29T22:31:31+00:00

Ana Crouch Ureña | Double Dare

2017-11-29T22:34:32+00:00

We should have known Eduardo would be the type to tattle. He was a hyperactive, annoying child with a tendency to boss us around, although at 8 he was younger than me by a year and had been held back in school.

Ana Crouch Ureña | Double Dare2017-11-29T22:34:32+00:00

Brianna Johnson | I Against I

2017-11-29T22:54:55+00:00

Her mom’s idea of good music was Kirk Franklin and Beyoncé. More than once Kenzi found her mother in the living room stumbling along as she tried to “get in formation” or convince Fat Dave to put a ring on it. She even had a shrine to the singer in her bedroom, photos taped along her dresser for “inspiration.”

Brianna Johnson | I Against I2017-11-29T22:54:55+00:00

Jaclyn Grimm | Paris, 1992

2017-10-30T10:50:01+00:00

In July, the spare room on the second floor of their rental fills with flies. They try getting the landlord to do something—anything—about the flies, but they’ve only been in France a month and can’t remember how to say please. They keep the door to the Fly Room shut tight.

Jaclyn Grimm | Paris, 19922017-10-30T10:50:01+00:00

Madeline Gobbo | The Admiral

2017-10-29T22:19:55+00:00

The test began. The students worked diligently to fill the bubbles they deemed appropriate. Livia watched one young man methodically draw frowny faces within each bubble and then cover them over with a flurry of graphite.

Madeline Gobbo | The Admiral2017-10-29T22:19:55+00:00

Chloe N. Clark | Other Names

2017-10-29T22:18:01+00:00

His date had neon pink shellacked fingernails. Lance couldn’t stop staring at them. The glare off them from the overhead lights was almost blinding. It reminded him of headlight beams bouncing off a rain-slicked road.

Chloe N. Clark | Other Names2017-10-29T22:18:01+00:00

Rachel Gold | Half Things

2017-10-30T16:08:48+00:00

My therapist says to remember that I’m young and only human. My mother in our last phone call said that I’m a narcissist. My father wants the money back from my wedding.

Rachel Gold | Half Things2017-10-30T16:08:48+00:00

Miriam Alexander-Kumaradoss | Everything is Fine

2017-10-29T22:05:47+00:00

M takes it from him. It sits in her palm, a squat little thing that's very white at the top but bloody at the root. She tries to remember what the different kinds of teeth are and which one this is. Around them, the other kids are screaming and prancing but M and V are still, staring at the tooth.

Miriam Alexander-Kumaradoss | Everything is Fine2017-10-29T22:05:47+00:00

Rebecca Givens Rolland | In the Music Therapy Room

2017-09-18T00:21:09+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22277" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]Sound exposing floor tiles, drumming to ceiling, embattled floor. Recorded music—Tchaikovsky—wolfs me down. I shut it off and beg myself to play. Baseboards glimmer a fine, [...]

Rebecca Givens Rolland | In the Music Therapy Room2017-09-18T00:21:09+00:00

Melissa Ragsly | An Explanation of the Disaster

2017-09-18T00:18:37+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22278" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]After the disaster, we were shuttled in busses to the elementary school. We were a soft-footed herd. They turned us towards the entrance, combating the mass [...]

Melissa Ragsly | An Explanation of the Disaster2017-09-18T00:18:37+00:00

Lisa Hanson | A Reward for Whimsy

2017-09-19T21:05:42+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22279" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]I knew little about Brad when we arranged to meet. Demographics, mostly. He was thirty-seven, an adjunct with abundant graying hair. A childless Libra, he’d never [...]

Lisa Hanson | A Reward for Whimsy2017-09-19T21:05:42+00:00

Jeremiah Moriarty | The Dinner Thing

2017-09-24T19:26:05+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]So, they decided to go to the dinner thing. And now Audrey is looking across the table at her husband next to her oldest friend and her oldest friend’s beautiful [...]

Jeremiah Moriarty | The Dinner Thing2017-09-24T19:26:05+00:00

Isabella Martin | Dwelling Place

2017-09-21T12:18:44+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22281" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]The best thing about the city was the train home in winter, after she had spent the day behind the circulation desk at the public library. [...]

Isabella Martin | Dwelling Place2017-09-21T12:18:44+00:00

Kat Solomon | Save a Child

2017-09-17T23:41:27+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22280" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]They get him on the way out of Trader Joe’s, with a bag of groceries in his hand thawing slowly in the summer sun. Some college [...]

Kat Solomon | Save a Child2017-09-17T23:41:27+00:00

Jennifer Lewis | Saturday Mornings

2017-09-17T23:37:07+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22297" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]White knuckles knocked on the glass. Tanya flinched then looked up to find a thin woman with an angular face, watery blue eyes, and shiny coral [...]

Jennifer Lewis | Saturday Mornings2017-09-17T23:37:07+00:00

Sara Kachelman | How My Heart Really Feels

2017-09-19T20:57:04+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22274" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]Every night at 8 p.m. I wait for the beautiful telemarketer to call again. Her voice has a radio liquidation. She’s lowered it like a man’s. [...]

Sara Kachelman | How My Heart Really Feels2017-09-19T20:57:04+00:00

Reno Evangelista | Tales From The Aftermath

2017-09-17T23:27:53+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22276" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text]Once upon a time, there was a mother, a father, a child, and the police. MOTHER: Don’t lick your lips. CHILD: Why? MOTHER: You’ll ruin your [...]

Reno Evangelista | Tales From The Aftermath2017-09-17T23:27:53+00:00

Samuel Rafael Barber | Wisdom in Pain

2017-09-17T23:20:04+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22275" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Every day is a gift my mother would always say last December when we returned home from the Christmas tree lot with the tallest and thickest of [...]

Samuel Rafael Barber | Wisdom in Pain2017-09-17T23:20:04+00:00

Craig Ledoux | The Never Ending Beer Parade

2017-09-17T23:13:36+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22295" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]A coat check girl with deep pockets sits across from me. She’s excavating the night’s ticket stubs, dropping them on the table next to the double-wicked [...]

Craig Ledoux | The Never Ending Beer Parade2017-09-17T23:13:36+00:00

Bailey Pittenger | Luxury

2017-09-19T18:09:35+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22309" img_size="medium" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Luxury The narrative is only conflict or complaint. I ask my friends, If a vagina had a facial expression, what would you read? My friend [...]

Bailey Pittenger | Luxury2017-09-19T18:09:35+00:00

Ali Raz | On Belonging

2017-09-17T23:14:00+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image="22284" img_size="600x400" alignment="center" style="vc_box_rounded"][vc_column_text] I am telling a woman, in a dream, that she fell into my life through contingency. I am telling her that she is from another [...]

Ali Raz | On Belonging2017-09-17T23:14:00+00:00

Kevin Chong | House Poor

2017-09-17T23:22:12+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]My own mother wore the same handmade clothes until the day she never woke up. Try as I might, I am nowhere near the seamstress she was. So now I [...]

Kevin Chong | House Poor2017-09-17T23:22:12+00:00

Tatiana Ryckman | I Don’t Think of You (Until I Do)

2017-07-28T17:21:13+00:00

Months after using my camera, I developed a roll of film and found you on it. I thought of Sontag writing, “The sense of the unattainable that can be evoked by photographs feeds directly into the erotic feelings of those for whom desirability is increased by distance.” I felt obvious and became embarrassed.

Tatiana Ryckman | I Don’t Think of You (Until I Do)2017-07-28T17:21:13+00:00

Olivia Mardwig | Practice

2017-07-17T01:57:34+00:00

After rereading it you feel a weakness that draws out of you like a low tide until there are only raised boats in the mud and incredible want. Why didn’t the character in the story predict that? What did she know that you don’t?

Olivia Mardwig | Practice2017-07-17T01:57:34+00:00

Thomas Molander | To See Abundant o

2017-07-17T16:14:54+00:00

He reached into his briefcase, pulled out an apple, wiped it on his shirt, and took a large chomp. He watched himself chew in the rear-view mirror. He ate the apple’s core too because he had nowhere to dispose of it and he didn’t want to chuck it out the window in case the client pulled in at exactly that moment.

Thomas Molander | To See Abundant o2017-07-17T16:14:54+00:00

Lisa Piazza | The Beat Between

2017-07-14T18:00:25+00:00

If you think I see Sibley, if you think I see Ruze, if you think I see Gran or my mom or Ms. K – sorry, you lose.  In Gran’s town, the streets don’t care if you are desperate or sad – the streets, like the dark houses, like the faraway sky, like the trees, do what they’re gonna do.  They keep quiet.  They keep calm – each intersection on auto-light: red, green, yellow.  Stop, go, slow.  Green, yellow, red, green.   Go slow, stop, go back…or go home. 

Lisa Piazza | The Beat Between2017-07-14T18:00:25+00:00

Ethan Feuer | Earjob   

2017-07-14T17:31:04+00:00

Under her keyboard was a faint eeee. Feeble warble weakly insistent like a dog shut outside. The eeee was deep in her laptop’s guts. Her brother Mark was on video chat, her famous and handsome brother, mouth-breathing due to his rhinoplasty and making tattoo suggestions. But she could hear it between his sentences, the eeee.

Ethan Feuer | Earjob   2017-07-14T17:31:04+00:00

Cathy Ulrich | This Is Not Your Beautiful House

2017-07-17T01:53:56+00:00

There’s nothing wrong with your life, other than the obvious things. The other girl is rich, though, the kind of rich with soft hands and chauffeurs. You meet her outside her mansion, a baseball cap tipped over your face to hide it.

Cathy Ulrich | This Is Not Your Beautiful House2017-07-17T01:53:56+00:00

Leah Bailly | Paradise, NV

2017-07-17T01:53:43+00:00

I also occasionally fell into a coma. I would dream of Las Vegas past, when I was a kid, when I flew down with my grandparents and we could still go to the Sands and the Silver Slipper and the Stardust. They would spend six weeks in the desert every winter in a motel two blocks off the Strip with a pool and a large Yiddish clientele. My grandmother, a smoker not a swimmer, would sit out in the sun and trade two-fers with the other ladies from Cleveland and Cincinnati and Saskatchewan. My grandfather was interested in the sports book, the horses in particular. Once we heard on my grandfather’s pocket radio that someone had jacked the bank across the street with a shotgun. I was afraid, but to prove that we were safe my grandmother marched me over to Smiths and bought a six-pack of pepsi and she gave me a can and then drank a mickey of bourbon in the rest of it. Bank robbers never hurt little kids, she told me. Remember, this city is full of people who just want to have fun, they don’t want to hurt some little kid.

Leah Bailly | Paradise, NV2017-07-17T01:53:43+00:00

Alexandria Narae Young | Miyoung in April

2017-07-17T11:53:55+00:00

Within a few minutes a woman in a red sweatshirt came to collect Tammy. Anisha left soon after, and then, to my consternation, so did Daniel Park. By lunchtime half the class had gone home. At the time I had a strange fondness for carrots dipped in ketchup, and it was this I was enjoying when my father appeared in the doorway.

Alexandria Narae Young | Miyoung in April2017-07-17T11:53:55+00:00

Justin Brouckaert | The Grandmothers

2017-07-17T11:59:12+00:00

The grandmothers walk through the front door, two and three at a time, bonding over talk of the weather. They lower their umbrellas, brush raindrops from their shawls and smooth their sheen grey hair, propped up in helmets or draped over grandmotherly shoulders. Cats and dogs, they say. Absolutely cats and dogs.

Justin Brouckaert | The Grandmothers2017-07-17T11:59:12+00:00

Seyward Goodhand | What Bothers a Woman of the World

2017-07-17T16:11:25+00:00

First of all the name of the creature who follows me around: Agvagvat. Watching my mouth in the mirror call her, “Hey, Agvagvat,” I can’t stand it—Agvagvat isn’t an attractive word to say. When my mouth makes those guppy sounds I look very middle aged.

Seyward Goodhand | What Bothers a Woman of the World2017-07-17T16:11:25+00:00

Kristin Vuković | Barren

2017-07-17T02:03:30+00:00

In Marko and Ana’s living room in Astoria hung a framed piece of Paška čipka—Pag lace—attached to a piece of creased cerulean paper. Last year when they were packing their bags to leave Croatia, Marko told Ana not to put it in her suitcase but she was hurried and stuffed everything in.

Kristin Vuković | Barren2017-07-17T02:03:30+00:00