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Showing results for Fiction

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

Lobo

Margaret Bentley

I rest my head on a pillow, falling in and out of sleep. Outside the windshield, locusts reflect light like shooting stars as they catch in the car's turbulence. I rouse slowly, watching

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

Lobo

Margaret Bentley

I rest my head on a pillow, falling in and out of sleep. Outside the windshield, locusts reflect light like shooting stars as they catch in the car's turbulence. I rouse slowly, watching

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

Autobiography

Tiff Holland

"You played sports?" he asks over dinner. They're having baked chicken and baked potatoes. Clean food is how she thinks of it, only a little butter on the potato and no salt. He's pouring ketchup

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

Autobiography

Tiff Holland

"You played sports?" he asks over dinner. They're having baked chicken and baked potatoes. Clean food is how she thinks of it, only a little butter on the potato and no salt. He's pouring ketchup

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

I WIll Unfold You With My Hairy Hands

Shane Jones

The hair monster checked out the ass of a handicapped woman. She was standing with her back turned when the hair monster noticed her panty line against her white tights and thought, hey hey hey. He

September 1, 2007 | Fiction

I WIll Unfold You With My Hairy Hands

Shane Jones

The hair monster checked out the ass of a handicapped woman. She was standing with her back turned when the hair monster noticed her panty line against her white tights and thought, hey hey hey. He

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Cabin Fever

Paul Silverman

She was what his father, who had a Betty Grable calendar in the garage, used to call a bleached blonde, and she was kind of daffy-taffy in that old Hollywood way. Face all smooth and creamsicle

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Cabin Fever

Paul Silverman

She was what his father, who had a Betty Grable calendar in the garage, used to call a bleached blonde, and she was kind of daffy-taffy in that old Hollywood way. Face all smooth and creamsicle

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

The Dead Walk Backwards

Steve Finbow

The earth is deep brown and peppered with crows. Sorry-looking cows nuzzle the frozen refuge. Two mongrel dogs, skinny, tentative, sniff at my backside. Submerged concrete -- cuboid and rectangular

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

The Dead Walk Backwards

Steve Finbow

The earth is deep brown and peppered with crows. Sorry-looking cows nuzzle the frozen refuge. Two mongrel dogs, skinny, tentative, sniff at my backside. Submerged concrete -- cuboid and rectangular

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Crimes of the Post-Divorce Era

Diane D. Gillette

Gerry let out a loud belch and tried unsuccessfully to focus on Albert.

"I've got to get her back. I miss her so much."

There were tears in Gerry's eyes and Albert felt his stomach clench,

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Crimes of the Post-Divorce Era

Diane D. Gillette

Gerry let out a loud belch and tried unsuccessfully to focus on Albert.

"I've got to get her back. I miss her so much."

There were tears in Gerry's eyes and Albert felt his stomach clench,

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Collision

Kathleen Lindstrom

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'm 43. I'm sure."

"It's a big decision. It's a life."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm Catholic. I know what a life is."

"I should have worn

August 1, 2007 | Fiction

Collision

Kathleen Lindstrom

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'm 43. I'm sure."

"It's a big decision. It's a life."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm Catholic. I know what a life is."

"I should have worn

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Agnes and Ned

Jonny Diamond

She had death in her hands, in her heart, in the americ tang of her angry sweat: she was jealous of a piece of bread. It was a dark, trunk-thick loaf of Polish bread, and Agnes could think of

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Agnes and Ned

Jonny Diamond

She had death in her hands, in her heart, in the americ tang of her angry sweat: she was jealous of a piece of bread. It was a dark, trunk-thick loaf of Polish bread, and Agnes could think of

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Four Sieges

Erin Fitzgerald

I.

Deirdre doesn't talk to Nicole anymore, but she thinks she does. Last winter, six months went by with neither one of them saying anything. Right around Memorial Day, Deirdre asked if she

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Four Sieges

Erin Fitzgerald

I.

Deirdre doesn't talk to Nicole anymore, but she thinks she does. Last winter, six months went by with neither one of them saying anything. Right around Memorial Day, Deirdre asked if she

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Nine Paragraphs about the Future (In Jacksonville, Florida)

William Peterson

1. Ionization

In a city where everything feels a bit belated, where the clever ones agonize over looming hindsight, our advertising company accelerated toward modernity, at last, on February

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Nine Paragraphs about the Future (In Jacksonville, Florida)

William Peterson

1. Ionization

In a city where everything feels a bit belated, where the clever ones agonize over looming hindsight, our advertising company accelerated toward modernity, at last, on February

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Unpublished Manuscript #36

Joe Clifford

Kitty peeled dead flies off the screen. She squinted in the direction of the boatyard. "No boats today," she muttered to herself.

A late season heat wave had brought a constant haze that made

July 1, 2007 | Fiction

Unpublished Manuscript #36

Joe Clifford

Kitty peeled dead flies off the screen. She squinted in the direction of the boatyard. "No boats today," she muttered to herself.

A late season heat wave had brought a constant haze that made

June 1, 2007 | Fiction

Liberating Crabapples

Richard Osgood

Leonard Crank is an ass. He's a beer-in-a-can-drinking, White-Owl-cigar-smoking, wife-beater-wearing, greasy-haired slug. He is also my next-door neighbor. As for me, well, I have always been the

June 1, 2007 | Fiction

Liberating Crabapples

Richard Osgood

Leonard Crank is an ass. He's a beer-in-a-can-drinking, White-Owl-cigar-smoking, wife-beater-wearing, greasy-haired slug. He is also my next-door neighbor. As for me, well, I have always been the

June 1, 2007 | Fiction

The Cousinfucker

Litsa Dremousis

"Rita, I know you've slept with one of your cousins," Mom told me this morning at brunch.

My stomach kicked. I stopped chewing but couldn't swallow.

"Here, drink some juice," she said and

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