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
Category Archives: FICTION
#mesoon
FICTION by Andrew JonesSuddenly he craved a world he could touch, a world where he didn’t spit into a USB port to learn about his future. He wanted the past’s hands all over him, to pull on him and expel him into some ancient form of ecstasy.… more
Another Saturday Night in Portland
FICTION by John YoheBrian walked into the living room. The man was seated on one end of the couch, half empty bottle of Budweiser and a pipe on the end table. Dark jeans and a grey t-shirt, barefoot, phone in left hand, glow lighting his face. The man smiled at him. Hey baby. Turn around, Brittney. Let Daddy see you again.… more
Where Have All the Wild Girls Gone?
FICTION by Janice LeadinghamJimmy had the face of a Labrador Retriever all dogless girls know from childhood that belonged to a friend or a neighbor but of course was never theirs so that when the girls looked in Jimmy’s eyes they saw something like home but better, and if they had to guess, they’d say that is probably why they listened to him at all.… more
The Man and the Rat
FICTION by Jane CamolezeThe man had been simmering with rejection since his early teens, and the rat stirring the pot came at a price.… more
Nobody Loves You but Me (and other threats / promises)
FICTION by Nick CaccamoWhen the car hits you, it’s not true that you don’t feel it right away. You definitely do. You absolutely do. Strangely enough, it’s your teeth that hurt the worst.… more
Waiting For the Train
FICTION by Maddy KayHow did people just say things to each other about love like it was normal? Like they weren’t opening a giant gaping wound in themselves for someone else to kick apart even further? What did any of it mean anyways? What made people loveable and normal—two things he never equated himself with?… more
The Sound of Bombs
FICTION by Francois BereaudThe sounds, always the four sounds. I’d been in bed for the better part of a month and they wouldn’t leave me alone. Rubber slapping rubber made a whoosh. Then metal scraping asphalt in a scream. Then his head hitting the ground with a hollow thud. Then another scream. The girl behind me.… more
Cambodian Dreams
FICTION by Faith MillerHe realizes now that was a stupid thing to have said. It feels imperative that he go to Cambodia and apologize to Gen say the right thing. He should have said he loved her. Maybe he should have said she wasn’t a whore. He didn’t fucking know.… more
Pierre’s Shortcut
FICTION by THOMAS KEVIN O'ROURKEPierre Freeman was an artist, raconteur and dancer, destitute and a drunk. He tatted his hair to thick dreadlocks that flattened into the shape of oak leaves. He smoked weed, but never paid for it. He spoke with a Jamaican accent even though he had never been out of Minnesota.… more
