We know these women by our post cards, Henry thought, beautiful but inclined to blow away.… more
Category Archives: Fiction
A Hint of Color, a Trace of Lead
Fiction by Jim FinleyIt is my father who passed with cancer in 1982, and is now alive.… more
To The Man Who Loves My Wife
Fiction by Krista DiamondWhat 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
Fiction by Katherine FallonI 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
Fiction by Steve GergleyDerrick (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 is… more
We’re The Ones
Fiction by Al KratzTrue 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
Fiction by Sheldon Lee Compton“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
Fiction by David CookWhen you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go… but sometimes you just can’t.… more
Frank, Start, Middle and End
Fiction by Terese RobisonI’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
Fiction by John MeyersI 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
