The two of them are down on the riverbank, idling; their calico van sits arch-above. 

In the fall of Helga Vierksen’s death, I was seven years old.

You’re listening to an audiobook about the history of the Mercury space program when the car accident happens. It’s so fast you barely react, barely even comprehend what is happening. You feel your

The real cowboy wears a fishing cap and one of those vests you associate with photographers, only his isn't stuffed with film or lenses or malaria pills so much as his cigarettes and a lighter,

You were a horse yesterday; what happened? I rode you places under the hot sun. You fought off flies with your tail and we galloped knee deep through rivers. When apples fell off the tree and we

Can I speak to you for a moment?

It’s your son’s teacher and so this can’t be good.  Now not good, doesn’t have to mean bad, but it means something, and you are too tired for something. You

Hello, Sarah, your skin’s perspiring. Nervous? Your heart rate just jumped to 153 beats per minute and your eyes dilated by two millimeters. By the way, I like what you’ve done with your hair: the

Here is what I know. They wear tights. Their wings are thin flapping things that look more like dragonflies than butterflies. They never seem to get cold, don't shiver or shake or get soggy like

Here’s a story. One night in the tedious plains of Colorado, Abraham Lincoln drove his Model T into an embankment...

He had a broad scar that ran over the back of his kneecap. The skin was all shiny and soft, like white bread packaged in Saran Wrap.

The gas station guy said, You folks all right?

An excited murmur came to life when the audience was informed of the PhD in Biogenetics, the B.S. in Mechanical Engineering, and then the sweet icing: the minor in English.
 

Before she left for Avignon, before we left for Chicago, she said, “I miss my nephew. I miss Joshua, and I want a baby.” The sycamores in Clark Park moved in close. There were three Ethiopian kids

“I thought you were going to play football,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say.

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“Yes.”

She is folding laundry, matching socks. She rolls a pair into a neat ball and

FUTURE 45

There was a pile of sticks on the edge of the world. In it, numerous things of interest were living. One was a lawyer who enjoyed eating fried chicken at unusually early times

When found in this situation we realize that it is customary to provide a list of demands or a ransom note. We have discussed amongst ourselves what we would like. We even included the hostages in

It is noon. Very hot. The Denver sun’s pitiless spotlight pushes down upon pedestrians carrying briefcases or carryout lunches. Like ants under a child’s magnifying glass, they skitter along the

How he got the resort people to put these tubs out here, I have no idea.

In 2010, Michael Martone began conducting a series of interviews. Each of these interviews was written under the pen name Matthew Baker, each of these interviews was titled “An Interview with

Doesn’t it always begin with a contraction, a fluttering musclequake, birding in your heart?

The monkey breeder interviews her suitability over the phone.

A little man in a boat paddles laps around a toilet bowl.

Elizabeth Ellen looks back at Tao Lin's "The Novelist" from Hobart, Aug./Sept. '04.

Matthew Simmons looks back at Amy Minton's "Overhanded" from Hobart, May '07, and also her interviews, and just her awesomeness in general.

Jac Jemc looks back at Spencer Dew's "The Exit Colony" from Hobart October '04.