fiction

[fiction]

Missing Letter to Albrecht

By Anya Reeve

The smoke tasted on my tongue that morning, mingled with fresh bite of air. Once on my tongue, the sapidity of ashing wood exhaled from my breath and nostrils. Clear, oh so clear.

[fiction]

Clotlets

By Aagneyo Mitra

Don’t hope

[fiction]

Your Destination

By Peter Rustin

Thirty minutes ago: the calm droning of the red-eye from JFK to Los Angeles. The cabin lights dimmed. Two teenage sisters sleeping, in pastel sweatshirts, heads nestled, sharing a pair of earbuds linked to an iPhone.

[fiction]

Netherworld

By J. A. Hersh

They were driving straight down a dark road, their little green car bumping on the potholes. It wasn’t a long drive back to their apartment. Fifteen minutes or so.

[fiction]

UNITE?

By R. P. Singletary

“Jane, the taste the taste, you have no idea, Jane.” Typing texting toiling tighter to a tik-tok than ever paid to do in an office.

[fiction]

Until My Dying Breath

By Stefanie Lee

I’ll tell you about how I’ve been remembering myself in the silver crucifixes and imaginary cracks of light underneath a centuries-old door frame. About how I find smudges of my soul on everything I touch, bones, dirt, the paper-thin resolve in my hands. It’s dark, you know.

[fiction]

Mrs. Anglerfish

By R.B. Underwood

I wake up. The morning sun is seeping in through the closed curtains. What a beautiful day!

[fiction]

A Visit from the Four Great Ones

By Tommy Cheis

Terror. In the sweat lodge. Drumming. Singing. Great Ones whispering.

[fiction]

The Vampire

By Franz Margitza

The vampire was the only nice one at the party. He looked a little out of place, with his long cape and medallion, but very debonair and a little sad. He was standing near the counter dipping pita bread into the baba ganoush.

[fiction]

Milk Carton

By W. David Hancock

Sandy drags Billy with her to evening Off-boarding. Billy’s excited because it feels like a special occasion.

[fiction]

Worknight

By Amber O'Hanley

I stood and drank underneath the stuttering fluorescent lights and beside my husband Wes, who’d invited me to his office’s Christmas party. I was already halfway to being loaded when his boss caught us by the tree.

[fiction]

Under Branches

By Dylan Reber

There was a tree in our yard. It was our yard just as it had been the yard of the couple who planted the tree and propped it up with stakes so that if it stooped, it wouldn’t stoop too low and die there, leaning sadly toward the grass and its roots.