LELAND CULVER
I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know how long it will be before you read this. The company that ran this facility—that runs this whole moon, really—they’re powerful, and a lot of smart people work for them, but they’re certainly not safe, and they don’t tell the truth….Continue Reading To You
Category: Prose
Lingering Touch Imprint Services Case 0822-1
MIKE ROSENTHAL
Before grabbing the knocker, Munroe pulled on his gloves so he wouldn’t pick up accidental prints. The morning job was a mundane one, and the clients wouldn’t notice his dedication to the rules, but Munroe had principles. He recalled the comment his boss left…Continue Reading Lingering Touch Imprint Services Case 0822-1
I Write American
PRISCILLA LEE
Never in my life have I been on a road trip. That’s some American shit, and I’m not American, only read tons of American fiction, and I mean Oregon-to-Massachusetts-lorry-truck tons. Never been to America, don’t know if they use “tonnes” or “tons,” or if they call them lorries. …Continue Reading I Write American
there was a door that i knew
SARAH WU
and i knew it intimately, the wooden door that sat in front of my room. it was a friendly presence, solid, and comforting. it held up the drooping ceiling of the white, caving plaster, and kept the little mice in the kitchen out of my bed. …Continue Reading there was a door that i knew
I Write American
PRISCILLA LEE
What I am about to tell you is completely fiction. I never met a man named Stewart—or as we called him, Stewie—and I never tried to make him mine….Continue Reading I Write American
To You
LELAND CULVER
I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know how long it will be before you read this. The company that ran this facility—that runs this whole moon, really—they’re powerful, and a lot of smart people work for them, but they’re certainly not safe, and they don’t tell the truth.
…Continue Reading To You
The Shella We Used to Call Home
CRAWFORD DAWSON
I watched the gentle rain patter lightly on the windowpane against which I had been resting my head. Each drop slowly flowed down the pane, coalescing into larger pearls, which proceeded to fall in turn to collide with other translucent pearls. The coolness of the glass had eased the heat, which was on the precipice of overtaking what constituted me….Continue Reading The Shella We Used to Call Home
The Hoarder
By VENUMI GAMAGE At times, I close my eyes, and the weight of my face dawns on me. Cheekbones upon which the cheekflesh sits, threatening to this time for sure slip right off and be lost. Too full a lower lip, and an even fuller upper, but what registers is always the way the corners…Continue Reading The Hoarder
Autumn Breeze
DAVIS RENNELLA
To the forest that is nearing its yearly dying and shedding its million leaves about the soil, the bodies of once living things. I decided to go on the day your favorite maple tree became bare and surrendered to the seasons. …Continue Reading Autumn Breeze
Why Do I Like My Poetry?
SHREYA HEDGE
I can see people’s desires hiding underneath trees, and I can watch the liquid confidence rushing in my arms. I can hide and tuck my emotions in the undersides of a wave. The ground sparkles, and my insides sparkle alongside because of poetry….Continue Reading Why Do I Like My Poetry?
Fertility
ANNIKA BAJAJ
She’s walking through the woods by her house. The trees grow whole trees instead of branches, and soon enough she’s clambering through sideways, upside-down, criss-crossing, tangled trees. …Continue Reading Fertility
The Inn
ELIZA BECKER
Izza and Mila were the only two Jews staying at the Inn. All the other inn-goers were in neat groups of four, of mother, father, and two dear children, while Mila and Izza were just the pair. …Continue Reading The Inn
Woven to the Senses
ALEX WOMACK
I hold it in my hands. My finger finds a thread and traces it, from white to gray to black, and marvels as it darkens. Is this color enough? What about the length – how many yards is enough?…Continue Reading Woven to the Senses
Arachnophobia
EDWYN CHOI
Most people are unable to feel spiders, their spindly legs and round bodies. The species does not matter — recluse, widow, trapdoor; they all run and climb the same…Continue Reading Arachnophobia
Life after the phone call ends
JACKELINE FERNANDES
After the phone call ends the wet cobblestone beneath my feet zooms into focus as the cracks between the rocks partition my field of vision and I look upwards as the world begins to recrystallize around me…Continue Reading Life after the phone call ends
Rot Girl Summer
TAPTI SEN
Decay exists as an extant form of life, or so they say. So even my rotting, motionless body must be continuing to live and breathe. Is it bearable? It could be, if I so wished it. Do I wish it?…Continue Reading Rot Girl Summer
Weathered to Sand
ALEX WOMACK
I came to visit today. / Claire told me not to, that it would only hurt me more. But even if my therapist is normally my first opinion, this time I just can’t agree. Why wouldn’t I want to see him?…Continue Reading Weathered to Sand
Prisoner’s Dilemma
ANNIKA BAJAJ
“I think I might be in love with you.” Y leans against the cell wall with hands behind his head, foot tapping against the cell wall. (The other cell wall; the cell was very small.)…Continue Reading Prisoner’s Dilemma
Shooba
AWA DIOP
Every Sunday at dusk, her moans dragged down our Sunday sun and beckoned it to set. The unnatural sound always rang too loud and plastered to every inch of space….Continue Reading Shooba
Ruby and Rose
BEA AGBI
It began around the time I got back together with Booker. They thought he was too simple, too easy to read. He wants what everyone else wants….Continue Reading Ruby and Rose
Under the Sun
BRYAN JIMENEZ FLORES
It was tradition that when I’d finish enough of my work I’d take the rest to the kitchen table and accompany my mom and the chores….Continue Reading Under the Sun
Saudade
CLARA CHIU
The envelopes began arriving over two months ago: blank white rectangles slipped through the mailslot at odd hours of the day. …Continue Reading Saudade
Haunted
CRAWFORD DAWSON
She bit her lip. What she was about to do was a felony, or at the very least, a crime. But she simply had to do it. …Continue Reading Haunted
Paralyzed Pole
ELIZA BECKER
Korris winced at the scissors’ first zip. Her ear had never been nicked while having her hair cut professionally, but she felt it to be probable, inevitable…Continue Reading Paralyzed Pole
Choice
GRACIE ROWLAND
Georgiana and I tangled ourselves in each other’s arms on the stairs to the loft. We were sitting in the only place we knew to sit whenever our Mama and Daddy fought….Continue Reading Choice
I Wanna Show You Someone
JORGE RODRIGUEZ JR
Their father threw a faded quilt in the middle seat where Ulysses would sit. Ulysses developed the habit of wetting himself when he felt the slightest urge to go. …Continue Reading I Wanna Show You Someone
Disappear
KAELA LIU
The five senses: touch, taste, sight, hearing, smelling. These five senses make up how we perceive the world. As we grow up, we accumulate experiences. …Continue Reading Disappear
The Great Peat Bog Body Bonanza of Who Knows When and Who Knows How
LAURA ALMEIDA
It was the beginning of yet another end. It didn’t like this; for one, being an it. There was a scream that resounded through the bubbling bog as it recalled, violently, its true life as a sprawl us and them and I…Continue Reading The Great Peat Bog Body Bonanza of Who Knows When and Who Knows How
Statement of Matthew Ingersoll, Regarding Earthworms
LELAND CULVER
I’ve always hated earthworms, you know. Repulsive slimy wriggly little monsters. I know they’re supposed to help turn over the old soil redistribute the nutrients from all the rotting things, but I can’t see them like that…Continue Reading Statement of Matthew Ingersoll, Regarding Earthworms
Do Zombies Dream of Electric Guitar
M LAWSON
Up here, on the podium, is our subject’s soul-liver during the first stage of zombification… infection of the brain is a Hollywood lie….Continue Reading Do Zombies Dream of Electric Guitar