Hans

Fiction by

I do remember Mommis and the pack. I think this is pure. We were out hunting I mean out prowling looking for food the sun was setting and it was just so beautiful and Mommis is howling and so we do too, all of us, even me, and I mean I know the Black Hills are in South Dakota now but then it was like this is all of existence, you know? More

Splinters

Splinters

Essay by

My nightmares don’t have a pattern, but lately they’ve been about my dead father-in-law. I am walking down an unlit hallway, searching for the light switch. My hand traces the paneling, catching splinters from the knotty pine. A fluorescent light shines on James, like he’s on a stage, but he spoils the moment when he points to my bleeding finger.More

We’re Trying to Tell You

We’re Trying to Tell You

Fiction by

A little respect is all he’s asking for, but of course we ignore him, it’s either that or tell him to go fuck himself, but in our last kids-only family meeting, Jett said we had to keep Dad on the even keel, that if we wanted to avoid counseling and a barrage of new medications, if we wanted to avoid the screaming and the threats, we’d better lay low, that turning up the volume on our iPads was a better way to go about ignoring Dad’s new crisis. Besides it kept Mom from getting her headaches, from binge-watching those trashy Housewives shows.More

Tiger

Tiger

Fiction by

I came back into the room to see her on the edge of the bed, her bare back to me, brushing her long black hair like the mane of some majestic animal you might admire and one day hope to befriend or even fall in love with. On her violin shaped back, a big tattoo of a tiger, baring its teeth and ripping red in her flesh.More

Marriage Laundry

Marriage Laundry

Fiction by

Sam was teetering underneath that fragile leave-stay threshold. She had to make it just past that…More

How We Got Here

How We Got Here

Fiction by

He’d felt the particular ache of a thing compressedMore

Two Stories

Two Stories

Fiction by

He remembers the acid, melting his skin like a slice of cheese left on the griddle. The smell of hair burning. He remembers the hospital, his ex-girlfriend leering at his singed-off eyebrows, her bottom lip sprouting a cold sore. She was too busy trying to shove a binky in the mouth of the baby strapped to her chest to notice that her nipple was popping out of her shirt and he was too tired to tell her. And he remembers that today is his brother Rob’s birthday.More

Maybe For Derek

Maybe For Derek

Fiction by

I read the last four pages while she showered. I cried through every word (spoiler alert: the chimpanzee died). I hugged her and told her it was the most beautiful ending to a novel ever, that great things were coming our way. She sat down and poured over the new pages, bawling like I had, perhaps harder, as if she didn’t know what was coming. She called me a genius. I joked that behind every great man is a great woman. We made love right there on the for-shit table, pushing the typewriter and the manuscript out of the way. Before we could finish, the table collapsed. We finished on the broken pieces on the floor.More

George Singleton

George Singleton

BULL Interview by

One time I had a woman say to me, “Don’t you just love Nicholas Sparks?” I said, “He might be one of the worst writers in the English language.” She said, “But he’s a millionaire!” I said, “People in America spend a lot more money on baloney than they do filet mignon. That doesn’t make baloney good for them.”More

Everything Will Be Fine

Everything Will Be Fine

Fiction by

Billy didn’t answer the first call, but the second time his cell phone vibrated on the night stand, he reached for it, pushed himself into a sitting position and answered. The room was dark except for a slat of gray light where the curtain fell open slightly, like a loosened bathrobe. Deborah leaned across andMore

TWO STORIES

TWO STORIES

Fiction by

After a night on the phone, I learned two things. First, he was a total mess. Second, it’s extremely difficult to clip your toenails while cradling a cordless handset between your shoulder and neck. Speakerphone seemed too impersonal.More

Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration

Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration

Fiction by

We talk about death, what it means to lose, but we don’t know how deep a loss can cut yet.More

Say; Do

Say; Do

Fiction by

Clifford wakes and smells it, sickly sweet and wettish, and wonders how come he can’t go to the bathroom and can’t go to the bathroom and then he’s shit his britches. He shifts between the sheets, feels around and takes a peek, discovers he’s okay. But the house reeks. He rolls to the edge ofMore

Bogey

Bogey

Fiction by

Over the last six months Bogey had been to a hundred different VA clinics, but this marked the first time he entered one with the aid of a crowbar.More

This Is Not A Toy!

This Is Not A Toy!

Fiction by

It’s when Mitch brings her to Barry and Minnie’s 14th Annual Grillin’ & Chillin’ Cookout that Barry begins to covet. A childish craving, the kind that happens when another’s new plaything renders yours boring and lame and obsolete. He takes her in from behind mirrored shades. The way she laughs at their dumb jokes, likeMore

Unbearable Burden of Being

Unbearable Burden of Being

Essay by

I 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

“The car had been through a reconstructed transmission, a busted carburetor, and was an absolute lush for Valvoline.” – Jordan Farmer, “Brothers”