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Showing results for Fiction

February 15, 2018 | Fiction

Damage

Jeff Newman

My son is obsessed with points.

February 13, 2018 | Fiction

Alptraum

Luke Whisnant

We were clowns playing death metal. That was our gimmick: whiteface makeup, red rubber ball noses, rainbow-colored wigs. We called ourselves Puke Bucket, but in his review of our first big gig

February 12, 2018 | Fiction

For The People In The Back

James Figy

Due to a clerical error, 265 students registered for my English 101 course. 

February 8, 2018 | Fiction

Mouth Open Wide

Denise Tolan

First, he ARRIVED – like the swans at Capistrano, or aliens in the desert, or, more likely, a flaming dessert.

“Who is that?” my friend Noelle said, poking me in the ribs; her inflection, a

February 7, 2018 | Fiction

An Open Letter to the Guy Who Asked Me for Directions

Stephanie Grossman

You don't know it yet, but I gave you bad directions, and now I can't find you. For this, I am truly, truly sorry.

February 6, 2018 | Fiction

Dear Liza, In What Shall We Carry The Stone?

Tyler Barton

We’re all going to be late, for everything, and the people we keep waiting will add this to their mental list of evidence that we are not careful or observant or accountable.

February 2, 2018 | Fiction

Two Stories

Sean Ennis

After thirty days in rehab, you are “coined out.”

February 1, 2018 | Fiction

2 Stories

Darla Mottram

Dress Code

I’ve got this friend who’s passionate about dress codes. Her name is Sharon. Most of the jobs I’ve had, when it’s come time for a boss to enforce the dress code, they do so

January 31, 2018 | Fiction

Devils Tower

Elizabeth Ellen

When I stay over at Amelia’s there is a poster of Devils Tower over her bed and we trace the volcanic neck with our fingertips instead of sleeping. I give Amelia a Xanax and floss between each of her teeth.

January 30, 2018 | Fiction

This is abstract and so entirely without utility, but I’ll note it anyway

d.

texas was underwater, florida had been evacuated, and the eagle creek blaze—started by fireworks in September of the hottest Summer on record—filled the skies for hundreds of miles with the forest’s ashes.

January 29, 2018 | Fiction

SWEET BEGONIAS

Anne K. Yoder

A sister in place of a father wasn’t an exchange. I’d had twelve years with a father and none with a sister, and I’d preferred it that way.

January 25, 2018 | Fiction

Foe in the Kitchen

Gina Zucker

I protested with my body, such as it was. I felt the need to explain. “I’m staging a protest.” I fluttered hard. The foe smelled of gas.

January 18, 2018 | Fiction

The Suitcase

Helen Hofling

It’s enough just to know that they’re out there. .

January 17, 2018 | Fiction

Dance!

Genevieve Hudson

People became a mob and the mob circled her, gnashed their teeth and lashed their arms as if to say, Dance! Dance! Dance! They wanted a concert! Another song! Dance, Connie, dance!

January 15, 2018 | Fiction

The Demise of Fragaria Ananassa

Danielle Lea Buchanan

Tongue hasn’t left its .276 square foot efficiency studio apartment in three weeks. To discourage visitors due to lack of space, this space was rented. Tongue is going through a break-up. This

January 12, 2018 | Fiction

2 Stories

Carla Diaz

There Never Was a Mainland

We burned fast that summer. The boats had stopped coming. The water kept us there. That’s the thing about islands.

We bathed at low tide. We ate shells and weeds.

January 11, 2018 | Fiction

Bio-Baby

Melissa Ragsly

In the bag the child swam and twirled and stopped long enough to meet the eyes of the camera. 

January 9, 2018 | Fiction

Melon

Kieran Mundy

My sheets got dripped on. We didn’t finish all of it. I fell asleep with the taste of it dried around my lips. Sweet, for a little.

 
January 3, 2018 | Fiction

Night

Hugo dos Santos

On November 13, 2012, Hugo Dos Santos awoke shortly after 1 am with an urgent need to urinate. He got up from bed and took two steps out into the hallway when he saw three small creatures in

December 27, 2017 | Fiction

Sun, Miles Away

Stephen Thomas

The sun is a dwarf star 93 million miles away. The Michael Lee-Chin Crystal, a spiky glass appendage that sprouts out of the Royal Ontario Museum’s original brick in downtown Toronto, was unveiled on August 5, 2007. 

December 26, 2017 | Fiction

Tampopo

Kris Hartrum

It was getting dark outside as me and Naoki walked down the paved footpath of my West Shinjuku neighborhood to the subway. It was rainy, and there were concrete hippos and pigs, and other rusted

December 22, 2017 | Fiction

The Virgin Mary

Adesuwa Agbonile

It doesn’t make the sound that you think it would make. I mean, I figured it would be loud, or top-heavy. But it sounded like almost nothing, like water dripping from a shower faucet three rooms

December 21, 2017 | Fiction

4 Stories

Michael Mungiello

In this one, nothing will happen, like in life, unlike in life, where everything happens.

December 19, 2017 | Fiction

Sam and Chester

Howard Parsons

They sat on the grassy bank, clothes clinging to their wet bodies, watching the river flow. A few raindrops splashed on the surface, tiny dimples rushed away downstream. Neither of them bothered to point out that it was going to rain.

December 18, 2017 | Fiction

This

Jackson Frons

I stopped drawing stars on my student’s papers. Stars are dying suns shouting out “goodbye!” as they disappear. Why should that signify goodness?

I discovered distant Facebook friends—dead from

Recent Books

Pregaming Grief

Danielle Chelosky

Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?

Who Killed Mabel Frost?

Miss Unity

I thought I was unhappy as a man. Turns out I was just unhappy…

Backwardness

Garielle Lutz

Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Not be be missed!