SHORT STORIES
Thin Places by Emily Giangiulio
We fill up on deep-fried bricks of cheese and rib eyes big as our heads at Burly’s Roughrider Bar & Steakhouse. Our neatly laced Merrells and moisture-wicking Patagonias set us apart from the mud-splattered, steel-toed boots under most every…
Sherlock Holmes and Harry Houdini Make Out in Wisconsin Weeks Before Disaster by Francis Van Ganson
When considering the mysterious circumstances at the centre of The Hound of the Baskervilles, Holmes says to Watson that in order to begin, there are two questions that must be considered. Firstly, if a crime has been committed at…
After Skim-Reading Jack London on the Plane by Elissa Field
“The fuck you take your gloves off again?” you growled, never letting up, the oldest. Brother trip, our third in two years, anywhere there’d be northern lights. We hiked out of the frozen Alaskan woods—the black-dark, wraith rider intimidation…
Abecedarian by H. B. Asari
Zones of your brain affected: frontal, temporal, parietal. The doctor points at them in turn on the scan of your brain. Those traitorous parts, shrivelling out of existence, threatening to take pieces of you with them. I look from…
Hold On by Toni Martin
I should have noticed when my wedding ring fell out of my pocket. I should have heard it strike and plink on the concrete floor in Big Willie’s dressing room behind the bar when I slung my jacket over…
Pretend by Mary Williams
Pretend I am your mother. Pretend you love me the way you did when you were small, and the world was big, and you could still feel, in some deep primordial way, that not so long ago, my body…
Island Girl by Shivani Manghnani
The Marine said his name was Dusty. She said hers was Laila, which was the name on the fake ID Kareena presented to the bouncer at the Wave Waikiki. If Crystal hadn’t led the way in a tube top…
Corpse Washer by Jennifer Springsteen
How to Wash the Dead Lenten, pansy, crocus, snowdrop Lewellen Hubbard was the corpse laid out before me. With my sponge soaked in sweet oil—Lenten and crocus blossom—I worked around the old scars on her arms: slash marks…
The Interview by Daniel Frears
1. The day had been long and pleasant and I was dozing off in the early evening to the sound of leaves rustling. The wind would come around the side of the house and blow through the karaka trees…
because if something no right, you no suppose sit down and look by Ayotola Tehingbola
Orode walked slowly on the wooden bridge. The water beneath him assaulted his senses. It smelt of tar and shit. He strode across the wooden planks. Reeds broke the surface of the murky river. Toads croaked loudly. Mosquitoes buzzed…