Cooking Iftar

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

I thought I was moving in exponentials. Things blurred or bent in me, like a dance between chaos and order. No. We all move a notch on this sprocket, the specifics of which I will never be able to shake.More

The Force of Objects in Summer

The Force of Objects in Summer

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

Twice I have heard young women scream when they have seen someone they love torn open or crushed and bleeding and dying in front of them. There is no other scream like it.More

Prisoner of War

Prisoner of War

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A writer for the hometown newspaper wanted to tell my grandfather’s story and tried to coax it out for years. “It wouldn’t be fair to the men that I served with that didn’t make it back, so ain’t nothing I can tell you.” He had lived through hell and revisiting it with a reporter for some article on personal glory was something he didn’t intend on doing.More

Two Stories

Two Stories

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While we agree to support our burgeoning activists, for a bit, we’re mindful they’ll soon get cranky from a glucose drop without a freshly picked and blanched mint and kale smoothie, that naps are needed for brain development, and of course sunset yoga is crucial to maintaining circadian rhythm.More

The Private Investigator Balances the Scales

The Private Investigator Balances the Scales

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The investigator was torn whether or not to note subject was dressed only in a large men’s t-shirt and had visible bruising on face and neck, but figured the video would speak for itself upon review.More

The Fray

The Fray

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You neither dare nor care to leave your fetal position to crawl to the commode.  When you soil yourself, they come, hold their noses, and hose. “You’ve hit bottom,” they say.  “Without a chance to explore your options, you’re lucky you ended up here.”More

Things Boys Do

Things Boys Do

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

They hammer nails into their fingers tear themselves with saws and do everything left-handed which is why their father calls them maudit gaucher but when was being left-handed a bad thing and their mom and aunt say they were smacked by the nuns to learn to write with the right hand and they should count themselves lucky nuns don’t do that nowMore

The Strangers

The Strangers

GRAPHIC NONFICTION by

I sometimes feel bad that non-potential rapist-murder-assaulter men have to be lumped in with their horrible brethren in my general mistrust of any man I perceive as physically capable of overwhelming me. But really I only feel ever so slightly bad. Sorry more-or-less decent men with girth, height, and penises.More

Gun Goes Off

Gun Goes Off

FICTION by

The way Serge held the pistol with both hands firmly gripping the handle in front of him and feet at shoulder’s length apart, it made Dodge’s heart thump in his chest. His mouth was dry. He licked his lips. Serge was walking him through proper gun handling procedure, but it was hard to pay attention.More

Danny Boy

Danny Boy

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My grandma used to say, Ellie, you can’t fix crazy, but you might can help stupid, though only unlearnt stupid, not born and ingrained stupid cause that stupid’s bad as crazy.More

Man of Ten Years

Man of Ten Years

FICTION by

I turned ten the weekend we left Dad in a mad rush, before Christmas, before I’d ever robbed a house. Now I share a bed in the grey-walled box room where Mam slept when she was my age. I talk to meself in the mirror sometimes now. Always tellin’ meself I’ll forever respect ten-year-olds. Most people grow up and forget important things like talkin’ to ten-year-olds and looking them in the eye.More