by Andrea Eberly | Sep 15, 2017
The end of Frank’s world doesn’t go out with a bang or a whimper, but rather with the siren of the emergency broadcasting system and a smoky, pink smudge on the western horizon. Frank Sommers sets up camp on the southeast edge of a high alpine lake—clear, turquoise,...
by Henry Finch | Aug 21, 2017
One day the rooster said to the little red wagon, “Little red wagon, I’ve sung my song. Won’t you give a me a ride around the farm?” “No,” the little red wagon said. So the rooster went to the raincloud and said, “Raincloud, raincloud, chase the little red...
by Jonathan Phin | Jul 27, 2017
Orn returned from work to an untidy house. Half-eaten bowls of cereal strewn on the counter, newspapers with coffee rings and mashed scrambled eggs melding with wet ink. The sticky floors popped with each step. Her annoyance grew, but who was there to...
by Amy Neswald | Jul 17, 2017
Phoebe swears that the slick roads and misty skies, and the fatness of the roses in our front yard are all signs that point to Bruce. When we hear “Bruce” called out at a restaurant, or see the name in the newspapers, or watch a movie with a character...
by Joan Menefee | Jul 10, 2017
We want to believe that there is nothing natural about numbers. These ciphers are our perfect projections, whom we marshal and archive, in endless right angles. Though they have pores and spines, the tables we fashion for them are not carcasses or skeletons,...
by Caitlin Fitzpatrick | Jul 3, 2017
This afternoon, Iris’s mother plans to swallow a pill that will dissolved her thyroid gland, cure her hyperactive metabolic disorder, and turn her, temporarily, radioactive. She will lift the white pill over her blushed lips and open her teeth so that the...
