Under the Bridge
Fiction by David MorrisThe reports would all say the same thing: that he had ventured here in violation of safety protocols. That his death, far from an accident, was the logical outcome of a cascade of mistakes, poor judgements, and bad decisions.… More
Hard-Boiled Funeral
Fiction by John AffleckBack at the graveside, Larry was still dead. Incense burned and was wafted around, dirt got tossed in the grave.… More
All the Dead Things Come Back to Haunt Me After You Leave
Fiction by Kari TreeseYou asked me three times to clean the smudge off the ceiling. I said I would but I kept forgetting. I think this is one reason. … More
Home at the Stretch
Fiction by Jared WyllysOne of my earliest memories is of my mother turning a baseball game on the radio while waiting for me to fall asleep for an afternoon nap.… More
Death Stalked Him Like a Matador
Fiction by Robert O'BrienI knew then what it meant, to bleed slowly from the heart.… More
Trump Rally
Fiction by Kion YouI glance at my mom, who is squinting and fanning herself with a MAGA pamphlet, and I’m not sure how much she’s understanding. There are thousands of unmasked white people around us and I’m so paranoid my chest is throbbing, but this is precisely the point.… More
My Lost Decade
Fiction by Anthony VaralloI spilled milk where one was not supposed to spill milk, soiled myself at the most inopportune times, incessantly chewed a green rubber ring into a slobbery mess, and cried in the middle of church services, head after angry head turning to see my parents whisking me away down the center aisle. “Shhhh,” my parents whispered, but I knew they really wished to say, “Get yourself together, dude. You should see yourself right now!”… More
Two Stories
Fiction by Michael Colbert34 is the slowest in the pool, which shouldn’t surprise anybody, because he’s new. He started swimming a month ago, probably because his mom told him to lose weight. He has these chubby cheeks, and his swimsuit is a size thirty-four, hence the name. All of us wear thirty-two or smaller, and 34’s suit hardly even fits as it is.… More
Did You Eat a Lot of Paint Chips as a Child?
Fiction by Lori BarrettA year ago he had no clue what it was like being a single parent or what it meant to run a small business. Then his wife decided their marriage wasn’t fulfilling. He didn’t blame her for wanting more. In order to live close to his children, he’d rented a studio apartment in the neighborhood near their school. The day he signed his lease the city reduced the library’s hours. He became even less. … More
Glass Wall
Fiction by Stevie doCarmoHe saw her see him. Her face said: I know this person. Then he knew he was positively identified, though her expression didn’t change. Baffling she should still be here, still on campus, all these years later. In this gaudy, sun-drenched glass box. Except not really: that was obviously a student sitting beside her, working… More
Hippo Brain
Fiction by Barlow AdamsYou can’t outrun being born poor anymore than a rabbit can outrun being born a rabbit. Get as far away as you like, you’ll still spend the rest of your days listening for the wolf at the door, watching for threatening shadows on the ground. Being poor is being hunted. Forever.… More
A Man, a Woman, & a Fetus Walk Into a Maternity Ward
Fiction by Hank MorganThe day my child came into this world lifeless and cold, I was writing jokes for my standup routine. I didn’t love the woman who was crying in the bed next to me. I mostly thought of her as the wrong end of a bottle of vodka or the face next to a trashcan. Sorry,… More
Urchin vs. Televangelist
Fiction by Geoffrey LineI am coming to your city to save you, said the handsome man on the TV. He wagged his finger at the camera, at Gabriel and his corpulent mother fused to the pleather couch, and he said to them that he was coming to their city to save their souls. Mark the date! In fairness,… More
Special Night
Fiction by Jeff BurdBrenda stands up and looks out across the hotel’s back parking lot. Past the dry, cracked asphalt and patches of brown weeds pocked with plastic bags and broken bottles. Neon lights flicker on from the fast-food restaurants and gas stations along the main drag three blocks over. She watches them, but then focuses on a group of teens that cuts through, leaving a trail of vape smoke in their wake. She turns to me and says, “I’m gonna need more cigarettes. Some more vodka would be good, too, don’t you think?”… More
“The car had been through a reconstructed transmission, a busted carburetor, and was an absolute lush for Valvoline.” – Jordan Farmer, “Brothers”
