Footsteps. The sound of someone walking toward me. I don’t look up. They stop. I feel them near me. I feel them looking down at me. I wait but they don’t speak. I wait to be nudged, told to move.… More
Rehab
Fiction by Roger D'AgostinI didn’t hear the backyard gate open or a greeting, if there was a greeting, until the stranger’s head was right next to mine, one eye closed. I smelled beer. “Well, looks like you’ve got yourself quite a project here.”… More
Two Stories
Fiction by Francine WitteMarty dives under the water and pulls her by the ankle back into the pool. Mabel struggles to get away. They are flipping and flapping, spraying water everywhere. The lifeguard thinks how much these two look like the fish his uncle catches when they go out on his boat on Sundays.… More
Pushing Up Daisies
Fiction by Kevin SterneIn the woods lives your exhales and resting peace. Selfcare is an oak leaf. Thoreau was a phony. You’ll never work in television.… More
Old is Punk
Fiction by Kaylie SaidinWhat I didn’t say: that I remembered being sixteen, drinking until I vomited into the gutter, taking pills and swinging from the rafters below a Denny’s while my parents thought I was at a friends’ house.… More
Waiting for It
Essay by Joseph BardinThe speaker says something about are you doing what you want in your life, or are you believing in yourself, or something along those lines, and I may as well have been struck by lightning, because the answer, I realize, in no uncertain terms is no, I’m not.… More
What Men Doo
Fiction by Wynward H. OliverMaybe I was a little maníaco because I only thought about sex during our all-male camping trips in Puerto Peñasco every Easter vacation, beginning when I was twelve. Dad would load up his white work van with a bevy of motorcycles and minibikes and enough food, beer, and soda to last a bunch of fathers and sons an entire week.… More
Tuyen
Fiction by Steve FoxJesus Christ, he’d say, throwing his head back. The eyes, he said. Ya had to bring the eyes back. Eyes are what make a guy, ya know? Jesus Christ almighty.… More
Pool Brush
Fiction by Garvin LivingstonIt was just sitting there in plain view, exposed, vulnerable. There was nothing appealing about that bland, clear plastic handle and worn white bristles.… More
MEG TUITE
BULL Interview by The DrevlowIf anyone does any research, which can amount to turning on the news any day of the week, there’s no need to sensationalize the depth of violence rampant everywhere and daily. And nothing beats reality when it comes to the shit happening on this planet. It’s a never ending exploration in horror.… More
