I wanted to write about the strength of my people, Eastern Kentuckians. We’ve been, and will continue to be called, dumb, backward, incestuous, lazy, drunkards and drug addicts, and on it goes forever. Pisses me off at a fire-and-brimstone level. And I took that pissed-offedness and Breece’s abilities as a writer and busted ass to show our heart and loyalty and ability to survive hardship and a hundred other positive traits. I’m still trying to bust ass with that as much as I can.… more
Tag Archives: Suicide
Acoustics of Loss
Essay by S.E. DanielsNo whisper goes unheard. Not the apologetic late arrival nor the chattering of children. We fidget in creaks. We remove and replace hymnals in scrapes and thunks. We stumble down pews with muttered condolences.… more
Unbearable Burden of Being
Essay by Ryan W. BradleyI am bad at killing myself. When you are unsuccessful at suicide some people say you really just want attention or that it’s a cry for help. But really, sometimes you just suck at it.… more
In the Event of My Death (Nancy, Do Not Read)
Fiction by Mack EisenmannIf Nancy and I aren’t still together when I die, I’d like whatever girl I’m with to wear a black cocktail dress and one of those sexy hats Jackie Kennedy wore. Make sure Nancy gets invited.… more
He Do Everything Big
Fiction by T.L.SimpsonThey pinch and prod him. Children ask to feel his muscles. Women run their hands on his chest, feeling the shape and firmness—something none of them have ever felt in their own men. They giggle like high school girls. Beau smiles and nods and hugs and says “yes sir” more times than Anna Carol can count.… more
Gordo on the 4th of July
Fiction by William GatewoodAn idea I’ve been mulling all night catches and burns through my stomach.… more
HARVEST
Fiction by Evan GrayBut Myers always wanted to quit the mine that he worked full time for, to fold his workpants up, shove them into the woodstove, beat across Field’s Church Road down to the riverbank, and slowly drown himself, strangling on the water, washing the ash and dust out of his eardrums, and die in a pure way, natural, so he wouldn’t end up dirty like his father, hanging from the main beam, filthy as a day’s work. … more
