FICTION
Ariel by Jinwoo Chong
At nine years old you pin him to the soil, knees around ribs, center your two fingers together between his eyes and shout bang, bang, you’re dead, you’re fucking dead. He is writhing, trying to escape you; your sounds…
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Yo Te Veo by Rachel Pollon
It’s hard to make out what language they’re speaking. At first glance I think they might be Italian. But as I eavesdrop further, take them in from behind my hopefully opaque-enough sunglasses, I realize I’m mistaken. None of the…
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Mule by Elie Piha
Nobody had ever given me anything before, so I didn’t care that the car was a piece of shit. I didn’t care that it was a two-timer, twice handed down, first from me and Davis’s old squad leader to…
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Surreal Portraits of the Future Us by Matt Kendrick
In five years, on Space Mountain, we’ll blast asteroids to clear a path through the Milky Way, buckle up and hold our breath as we journey into the void of darkness. When we disembark through adverts of outer space…
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Swim by Ambata Kazi-Nance
I am the last to see the water. I look up only when John Jr. and Grace stop singing, their voices sucked up suddenly like they’ve been swallowed by a vacuum. Ms. Laura turns from the front passenger seat…
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What You Know by Heather Aronson
When someone yells “Boom!” on a sailboat, you are about to get hit by a bar at the base of the sail, unless you duck. “Hard alee” also means something like “duck,” but to the side. You never remember…
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Silverfish by Christina Perez Brubaker
When James’s wife, Lauren, discovered two silverfish in their seven-year-old daughter’s bed, she’d placed the insects in a jelly jar. They waited on the counter beside his morning cup of coffee. Prehistoric, she called them, and he had to…
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Summer Night by Joanna Pearson
They slept much better using a disc-shaped noise machine from which they could select a variety of soothing sounds: Ocean Waves, Birdsong, Tropical Breeze, Summer Night. They always chose Summer Night, so whatever season it was or should have…
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Micro Home by Jonathan Cardew
She applied the last dabs of paint to the mermaid’s tail. “I’m about to die in here,” she said, knuckling a stray hair from her eyes. I opened a window. Outside, the woods were ablaze with soft browns and…
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On the Universal Rights of Ducks and Girls by Tara Campbell
Thank you for your e-mail informing us of the incident that has upset your daughter Dolores.
What you describe in your e-mail as “duck rape” must have been bewildering for a young lady to see for the first time, but I assure you that it is a natural process….
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