King David

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It’s how the story ought to end, though. A tale of brothers always ends with brotherhood broken—all the better if it’s broken by the other brother.More

The House of Spirits

The House of Spirits

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Hurley didn’t drink, really, but the liquor store was his favorite place to buy lottery tickets. He’d never heard of anyone celebrating a multi-million-dollar windfall at the gas station where some teenager with a face pierced full of tin randomly generated winning numbers between yawns.More

Wayne’s Booth

Wayne’s Booth

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They assembled into a funeral procession led by Gator, first in line, who belted out “Died like a man,” then slapped the top of the door, spilling a bit of his drink on his otherwise pristine black apron, and they entered the shop for the last time.More

Ringlets: A Horror Story

Ringlets: A Horror Story

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

After you accept that no one can uphold competing, contradictory gender mandates, you can do whatever you goddamn want.More

At the Lake

At the Lake

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Bev is singing Karen Carpenter songs. She’s getting that thin. Her voice steals across the sand to me. From the cottage. She’s making love with Mike. I’m on the lake beach watching their two kids sink ankle deep, knee deep, hip deep until I snatch them out. I roll them and sand sticks to them like I intend to fry them up. Maybe I will.More

Three Stories

Three Stories

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A mad woman doesn’t know what she is doing or thinking, I know, so don’t bracket me, I hissed. I don’t open my mouth because it has the garbage of the world that the oceans have left behind, the kind that can choke blue whales and leave them on the shores like impossible spectacles.More

Drifting

Drifting

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

I think of my less than $200. From that, I subtract my half of the rent. And from that, I subtract the cost of my misery, of the sense my times about to run out, that everything I was supposed to become is slipping away. Every subtraction pushes me further into the negative, deeper into a spiraling surplus of regret.More

Sunspots on a Calendar Week

Sunspots on a Calendar Week

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When you see two people fucking, with a capital F—really sharing the spoils the way it should be—who cares if the Company has gathered at three o’clock on a Monday to hear the top dog give his all-hands spiel? You look, godammit, and you probably laugh. That’s the human thing to do.More

UFO Welcome Center

UFO Welcome Center

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She felt like she’d been folded up and stuck inside herself like a piece of origami. Like she was an empty shell, inhabiting someone else’s body the Earth, and attempting to exist like a normal human. Maybe she’d lost her autonomy. Maybe an alien had taken over her body and she didn’t realize it until now but it was too late to regain control.More

THREE STORIES

THREE STORIES

FLASH FICTION by

It was embarrassing, sprinting in his shiny funeral suit, trailing the paper kite over the hillocks. And from this he gained some sense of the ridiculous and the infantile that fathers persevered through for little-ones too young to recognise it as anything other than wondrous.More

Three Stories

Three Stories

FLASH FICTION by

Mark smells the shit before he sees it. Mrs. Friedman is naked on the beige carpet, leaning on her loveseat covered in flowered upholstery, her silver hair staining red. She is holding a dirty diaper in her hand. “What were you doing out of bed, Mrs. Friedman? Looking for a midnight snack?” “It’s none of your fucking business.”More