Story: Katie Martin

checkingin

Checking-In My mother and I drove west from Phoenix all night, rolling down the windows so the July desert air could pummel our faces and knot our hair. We played a Liza Minnelli CD and sang so loud that our pinched voices smothered her contralto one. We turned off the radio and listened to the … Continue reading

Story: Desmond Webster

game_of_life

Game of Life The leadership style of a man is as distinctive as his fingerprint, and my grandfather dealt with absolutes: you did what you said, and said what you did; the sun always rose in the east; and tobacco should be smoked only in a pipe and never rolled in a cigarette. My grandfather … Continue reading

Story: Ellen McGrath Smith

veins

Varicose Veins Channel-Surfs Before Meeting Her Internet Date I won’t be stood up. I’ve stood up way too much. Toni Brattin’s Beauty Secrets has no cure for vermicular. What if he turns out to be a serial killer? Why can’t my legs be Paris Hilton’s? What of my eyebrows and nosehairs? I tweezed until I … Continue reading

Story: John E. Keats

a_part

A Part I watched the brunette’s pale breast escape from the vertical pressure of a clinging, turquoise strip. A high sun scalded the concrete and the crowd surrounding my apartment complex’s pool. Most of us were stuck to slimy cushions on slatted, wooden recliners. Children splashed in the water. Adults swam quivering laps. The exposed … Continue reading

Story: Gessy Alvarez

morsels

Morsels Fort Tryon Park. A troop of children swing like acrobats, slide like boulders, climb up the monkey bars and shout from the top, “Look at me!” Mami pushes the stroller. Little sister’s arm dangles from the side. She hiccups the last of her tears. I fly around them. My arms stretched like the wings … Continue reading

Story: Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri

douchebagdavid

Douchebag David Mr. Drew hates teaching writing workshop tonight, because he has to deal with Douchebag David, or so he calls himself. The mustachioed man who shouts out Big Lebowski lines, and talks about dead mothers and Russia. He wonders, though, whether David’s stories are autobiographical, even though he shouldn’t. It’s a writer’s cardinal sin, … Continue reading

Story: Matthew Vasiliauskas

abbatoir

Abattoir They found his body yesterday, or was it today, they couldn’t really remember. He had been at the abattoir longer than any of them, and suddenly dropped dead while carrying a headless hog. There was something about the way he maneuvered torsos that seemed almost like an art to them. It was all balletic, … Continue reading

Story: Michael James

side_effects

Side Effects The sound of the dishwasher follows her into the room. “The doctor called this morning.”   “Yes or no?”   “Come into the bedroom. There’s no light here. It’s depressing.”  “Sure. Gimme a minute?”   Her nod is a statement. She leaves the room. This will be a serious conversation. And he knows how … Continue reading

Story: Amber Simpson

lamentations

Lamentations My four uncles were drunk at their sister’s funeral. No one told them not to have beer—not my grieving father or the funeral director behind bottle-cap glasses. They threw the empty cans in the bin by the casket meant for tissues. There were wet tissues in there, too, but you couldn’t see them for … Continue reading

Story: Daniel Leach

monday

Monday You park, kill the engine, and stare at the brick façade, your hands stuck at ten and two, the car quiet as a tomb. It is time to go inside, and yet, you sit and stare, refusing to unfasten the seatbelt that is leaving a savagely deep wrinkle in your new shirt, refusing even … Continue reading

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