Writer: Barrett Hathcock

Swim, Swam, Swum

Swim, Swam, Swum

FICTION by

Max didn’t even have to ring the doorbell. I came out as the van pulled up. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so eager for the visit but it didn’t occur to me hang back, to be cool, not yet at least. It was late summer, just before the start of eighth grade. I wasmore

Portrait of Bullwhip

Portrait of Bullwhip

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

“I grabbed the whip and let it loose in the garage, let it slither around my feet, and then I took it out into the carport.more