Showing results for Fiction
Sitting House
Robert Nazar Arjoyan
Wafts of ancient loam and wet wood. He had viewed it all with sickening fascination, the swiftness with which something so solid could be torn asunder, cored completely.
The Branzino
Greta Schledorn
I’ve always wanted someone to tell me what I want, to sell me on a life I want to live.
Bombs Bursting In Air: From New York to the Crystal Coast with the Wartime Author
Derek Maine
Literature is happening all of the time, all around us, all at once.
Evel Knievels
md wheatley
I was driving down the freeway listening to Third Eye Blind way too loud
Future Present
Brad Phillips
Bobby was going down, not on a woman or a man but fast and with extreme force into the frost covered asphalt of a Holiday Inn parking lot, five minutes from the Detroit airport.
The Redhead
S.H. Woodgeard
My father is talking fast, telling me how the redhead is waiting for him.
Headphones
Katie Frank
Once her parents were reliably asleep she helped herself to a long hot shower, a respite which was what she imagined drugs must be like.
Yet another person who doesn't give a shit about your existence
Jessica Almereyda
This act of attention lifts you momentarily out of your debilitating amiss-malaise.
The Olfacteur
Eric Sacks
“Must have been rich kids,” says Al. “A lot harder to make money staying anonymous.”
U C what U want
Xairan Ray
It all started with a wrong clap. I remember that because Dave was saying that when she was born, her dad got mad that she clapped on the 1 and the 3 and not the 2 and the 4. He was clapping weird.
On All Fours
Marc Tweed
The thing about Grandma is that she seems to show up unannounced and she doesn’t care about the substance of the prayers, just that they end in Amen.
The Losers of Tomorrow
Miranda
I know Max is probably hard by the time we get to the overlook at the dam. He puts the car in park and tells me he mixed a cd, just for me, because I’m so special.
- I can’t believe this is
The Beer Run
Ivan Kenneally
As a young boy, I lived in the Bronx in the mid-1980s during a time when it was infamous for its squalor, a third-world dilapidation captured in movies like Martin Scorcese’s Taxi Driver. I remember
Everybody Hurts
Camille Sauers
The boys stood in the vacant lot outside the convenience store, which was closed today due to a special occasion. There was even a sign on the door. Armando was getting high again. Stew was quiet.
Friendly Advice
Gabrielle A.D.
He’s still rambling about my womanhood, my untapped, ethereal potential, when I reach for a tissue and blow his hot load out of my nostril.
Day One at the All-Inclusive
Carly Alaimo
Dolphins are too good for this world, I think, as I reluctantly, fearfully, kiss one on its domed rubbery mouth while someone snaps a picture.
The Invitation
Chris R. Morgan
Walking through the dense forestry of unrefrigerated 24- and 30-packs, Pete was in search of something that would stand out from the rest.
Freight Train
Naveen Rajan
He looks at me a little like how the alley cats look at the mice behind the house, but I don’t mind.
American Made
Anthony Gedell
The great neon calamity of his own life exhausts him.
Recent Books
Dear Nico: the Diary of Elizabeth Ellen (Nov, 2018-Feb, 2020)
Elizabeth Ellen
"It captures all the doubts, giddiness, confessional streaks, blabbiness, self-alarms, rationalizations, feigned equipoise, and instantly breakable resolves of a person freshly infatuated and likely in love." -anonymous writer friend
Nudes
Elle Nash
“Transgressive and immediate: you feel these stories shoot through and wrap around you.”
- Kyle F. Williams, Full Stop Magazine
Worsted
Garielle Lutz
“Lutz’s work is a marvel of the possibilities of language. Each of her sentences is an intricately crafted thing, deeply complex yet crystalline in its clarity . . . her command of each and every word remains supreme.”
--Mira Braneck, The Paris Review Daily
Garielle Lutz is the author of The Complete Gary Lutz, among other books.