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October 7, 2016 | Nonfiction

Hinterland Transmissions: Canadian Thanksgiving

Steve Anwyll

But if it's anything like years passed it'll boil down to something real simple. Start drinking as soon as the coffee is done. Bottles of beer and wine. We'll wrap ourselves up in blankets to stave off the cold. Too cheap to turn on the portable radiators we use to heat our place. Her parents will call. We'll feign sobriety. A hard thing to do at 10:00 a.m. with wine-stained lips.

Hinterland Transmissions: Canadian Thanksgiving photo
Dreamcrasher photo

October 6, 2016 | Fiction

Dreamcrasher

Agustín Lopez

I had never considered practicing polyamory, so when my girlfriend suggested it to me, I didn’t know what to say.

Two Poems photo

October 5, 2016 | Poetry

Two Poems

Jackson Burgess

Outside

I keep finding myself loitering in the snow, watching strangers clink their glasses through the window's frosted glare. In my Midwest apartment I am always scrolling through photos of

Only Sunshine photo

October 4, 2016 | Fiction

Only Sunshine

Becky Mandelbaum

Her parents, Mary and Don, were overcome first by grief and then by caution: they purchased fire extinguishers and flame retardant blankets, put the fire department on speed dial and plugged the holes in the nursery wall with corks, so that the angry neighbors could not look in and make a spectacle of their only child. Julia was their everything