Category Archives: FICTION

FICTION (1000 WORDS OR MORE)

Art’s Wife

Art’s Wife

FICTION by

His eyes blinked like a machine gun’s stutter. He swirled his Chivas and mumbled something—I couldn’t hear it well over the racket of wild fucking in the bedroom. Maybe he said, “Mother would never have written that.”more

Everyday Miracles

Everyday Miracles

FICTION by

The day after your cousin’s funeral, you say you need to see a miracle, so we don our heavy coats, I usher you to the car, and we motor into the gray wintertime early afternoon that drains the world of color.more

A Kid is a Kid

A Kid is a Kid

FICTION by

Things I have in my pocket: a Zippo lighter with an iron cross given to me by my uncle who fought in the big war, a sense of self-doubt, a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes, sense that the 90s were the best of us, a picture of you.
more

Quitter

Quitter

FICTION by

I’ll smear Hot Cheeto dust on the headrest of the passenger seat that sits empty and by accident cast a spell that ripples through stars and time.  And those stars and time will stop.  And a secret compartment will open upon the Chevy dashboard.  And up will pop a button the color of Lake Superior.  And that button will say “REWIND.”more

St. Petersburg

St. Petersburg

FICTION by

It is my firm belief that a fellow should always marry a gal who’s head and shoulders smarter than he is, that way he knows he’ll never be having to worry about having to worry about nothing.more

Arm-Cami

Arm-Cami

FICTION by

I worried she had fallen asleep, then wondered why exactly our relationship had never been sexual, why I had started to think of everyone in these terms.more

The Day the Lions Won the Super Bowl

The Day the Lions Won the Super Bowl

FICTION by

After the clock ran out, they, NFL admins or whoever, walked real lions out onto the grass. The real-life lions were distinguished and strong. Big manes and bigger claws. Clear-eyed and assured, the way we’d always wanted to be, us fans, really, in the deepest part of our football-watching souls, which now we were.more

The Rage of Silence

The Rage of Silence

FICTION by

One hundred T-bones a day, both cut and trimmed. Fifty ribeye, sixty Porterhouse, it didn’t matter over and over he thought of Tara’s face. He studied his boss’ actions. He learned the movements of his coworkers. It was out of habit to study people. He couldn’t help himself. He let them bust his balls often, even smiled, but he knew he could end every single one of them if he truly wanted to, but he never wanted to entertain the thought at the same time.more

COPS AND COMFORTABLE CLOTHES

COPS AND COMFORTABLE CLOTHES

FICTION by

I’d bought my first dress for six bucks because I was the only waiter in the restaurant and I thought it would be funny. Then I thought it would be hilarious to buy another dress. Then a skirt. I liked working with women. I liked the gossip. I liked the feel of the fabrics. I liked being less restricted.more

The Build-Up

The Build-Up

FICTION by

I started dating this girl named Nichole, hoping to prove that I was straight, that I was a boy. That I was the things I was supposed to be. But I didn’t think about her when I masturbated. Instead, I imagined Zack in his football uniform.more