Category Archives: Fiction

Two Stories

Two Stories

Fiction by

We know these women by our post cards, Henry thought, beautiful but inclined to blow away.more

A Hint of Color, a Trace of Lead

A Hint of Color, a Trace of Lead

Fiction by

It is my father who passed with cancer in 1982, and is now alive.more

To The Man Who Loves My Wife

To The Man Who Loves My Wife

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What do you guys do when you’re not having sex? Do you watch television like we did? Is that the faint smell of American Spirits that I sometimes catch the scent of, the bedroom window open to cover it up? Do you ever get too cold sitting up in bed with white sheets covering your naked bodies, puffing on cigarettes?more

Legacy

Legacy

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I rotated my hips outward, pretending to be a dancer, and did a sloppy arabesque, showing my striped underwear to the mirror. I held myself there, distorted and wobbly, and noted how far my body could bend on its own. I stared and stared, and, like saying a word so many times it no longer sounds like a word, I became less and less human to myself.more

Some things that happened after Derrick woke up his girlfriend at 3 a.m. to watch Too Many Cooks

Some things that happened after Derrick woke up his girlfriend at 3 a.m. to watch Too Many Cooks

Fiction by

Derrick (me) felt a little less scared about the future and life in general thanks to a bunch of the little creepy appearances of the killer in the background of Too Many Cooks like when he’s on the stairs in the background of the family photo near the beginning and no one notices he ismore

We’re The Ones

We’re The Ones

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True grit ain’t as easy as it looks, he said. You’ve got to get dirty if you want to live. more

To the Cherokee Strip

To the Cherokee Strip

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“It seems wrong because it is wrong,” Thomas said. “And we’re doing it anyways. Won’t be the first time for either one of us. Let’s cut across right-handed and set up in those low hills. Rain’s coming.”more

Performance Anxiety

Performance Anxiety

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When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go… but sometimes you just can’t.more

Frank, Start, Middle and End

Frank, Start, Middle and End

Fiction by

I’ll be listening now to Rachmaninoff, thinking about Marc in every note. “Hear that, Frankie?” I murmur. Frank could whirr back in a murmur. I’ll rest against his pretend skin, accepting tenderness when he offers it. But sometimes, hugs are what I miss, and I lash out.more

Master Plan

Master Plan

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I will sit in my company’s unfinished office space with a woman I hardly know and tell her everything about me, from the most deeply personal details to the most inconsequential. During our interaction I will drink high-quality gin to facilitate the telling.more