As a kid, he was the one who found nickels, dimes, and quarters on the sidewalk, got two candy bars to fall into the well of the vending machine when he had only paid for one, and succeeded where so many others had failed in bashing open the piñata. Two or three times, when he wasn’t ready for a test, the teacher wouldn’t show up. Test cancelled. Stuff like that. His whole life.
Continue reading “Why Is Jake Always So Lucky? by Paul Crehan”
This was the day I lost my soul and I suspect Stu did too, considering… We got our daily warm RC Colas at Mullens Grocery store. Mr. Mullens gave us a skeptical once over, trying to figure out what we lifted. We wore giant parkas, that could hide a dirt bike or whatever we could grab. Our frugal mother’s bought them extra-large hoping we could wear them from the fifth grade to high school, perhaps forever. Mine was dark blue and Mom already washed it, and it wasn’t even dirty. This was evident because the once fine furry texture around the stove pipe hood’s edge was all gray and gooey. Like globs of wet dog fur. Thanks, Mom. My cousin Stu’s coat was light green with yellow stitching. The hood still had the fake rabbit’s fur look–shiny and bristly. Maybe it was real rabbit fur? How should I know? I was only ten.
Continue reading “Where Everything Got Broken by Christopher J. Ananias”
“She was reckless and calculated. Sharp but dreamy. I think she was lost. Overcome by the world’s endless configurations.” A wave of chills swept over me. Papa was only eloquent when talking about her, so I tried to soak it all in–every syllable, hand gesture, intonation–to paint a picture of her in my head. Papa never even showed me photos, because as he said, “It’s in the past.” I had stored a few features such as angular nose and fair skin in my reservoir until then, but those were surface-level. I had been yearning for characteristics to vitalize the shell of a person in my head.
Continue reading “Remnants of a Silence by Saul Brauns”
I’ve been thinking a lot about Kurt Cobain. Not so much how he ended it, that lonely moment above the garage, surrounded by impenetrably dense, green, tall trees, surrounded by nobody. Not that, as I sit in the stall nearest the far window, the toilet closed, my knees bent so my Target sneakers don’t show beneath the door.
Continue reading “Nevermind by Matt Liebowitz”
You haven’t been at work. That’s very unlike you. It’s been a few days. No, weeks. They couldn’t agree on how long but they all agreed it’s extremely uncharacteristic. You’re a model employee, always at your desk by nine, always there until at least five. You’ve been at your job for a few months. No, it’s been a year. A middle-aged HR manager named Dragwood (I didn’t ascertain whether it was his first or last name) looked through a file. He shook his head in disbelief. Wow, five years. She seemed like such a nice young lady, the man they called Dragwood said, like you I’m sure. I’m not at all nice, I didn’t say out loud.
Continue reading “Nice Young Lady Vanishes by Simon Nadel”
The congregation came to him in the merest tendrils of the dawn’s earliest and sickest light, the sky’s face the same faded blue of an overdose.
They came to him like faces in a fever dream, seeking answers as they always did. The preacher didn’t have them. He was looking for answers of his own. He was dope-sick after all, the slow crawl of heroin fidgeting in his collapsing veins as it made its retreat, making the marrow of his bones ache. His body was already begging for more liquid forgiveness, and there was the other issue that he needed to attend to, the issue that made his need all the more desperate, the issue that had marooned the preacher in the sleepless raft of his stiff bed with nothing but his anxious thoughts to sustain him.
Continue reading “Spite by Alex Sinclair”
Ivan Mikhailovich Izbyakov stood statue still at the window overlooking the Motlawa River, his face a mask of benign tranquility. A ray of late afternoon sunshine cut through the parted blinds and bathed the small studio in a sultry golden light. He leaned against the windowsill and watched a flock of gulls hovering over the river, rising and falling in the wind as if on strings.
Continue reading “Swans of the Baltic by Conor Christofferson”
It’s dusk and Gail’s probably pitching a bitch by now anyway, so Carl stops down the street from their walk-up and takes a moment to examine his new sunburn in the lighted courtesy mirror. He can’t help smiling.
He’s poking his forehead with a finger after parking in the lot when Gail calls out through the bedroom window.
Continue reading “Did You Hear Me? By Mick Bennett”
We were in the same class at junior school. You were only eight years old, I was nearly nine when you moved. I sat behind you. You were so clever; you used to be the first one to answer the teacher’s questions. I used to try and get close to you so I could copy your work.
Continue reading “You Don’t Remember Me, Do You? By Alex Kellet”
Nobody hitchhikes anymore. That went out in the ’60s when Nam vets and the hippies with their thumbs out could be found along any West Coast highway. But hitchhiking in January? Even some stoned freak knew better. Besides, it’s 2024 and I’m almost 80. This is stupid, really stupid. Maybe I can blame my poor judgment on dementia. But then, if I can understand what dementia is all about, I probably don’t have it.
I’ve already bit my tongue; I taste blood. I can’t feel the ends of my fingers. I’m such an idiot.
Continue reading “Cold by Terry Sanville”
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