Fiction

My Work History

Martha Hipley
Everything in this part of the city used to be something else, especially the buildings, and all the new office complexes and shopping centers and clubs are rea...
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Reply Guy

Graham Robert Scott
You’re in the middle of— Hello? You awake yet? Let’s try again. You’re in the middle of a game. Potentially a lethal one. Hello? You heard me say lethal, ...
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Hell is Real

Josh Barnett
As I drive up I-71, it takes me a minute to realize the billboards have started speaking to me. And not speaking to me the way an old painting or a Tom Hanks mo...
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Slap Messenger

Adam Straus
The summer after 10th grade I worked as a slap messenger. It was this novelty website I made in Computer Class where people would go online, fill out a form, se...
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Rebirth

Mariam Shengelia
-He passed in the night. At 2 a.m., concluded the medical experts while gazing with a cold glare at me -Oh, God! Have I really spent the night next to this sto...
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8-Ball 2.0

Will Musgrove
“Do you struggle with predicting the future?” a production assistant says from behind the camera, reading me in. The deck of tarot cards sitting in front of me ...
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The Train

Lizzie Golds
Somebody is sitting in her seat. It’s the best seat on the train. It’s in carriage five out of nine – precisely in the middle – whose doors open directly int...
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Bark at the moon

Anthony Verdi
“Molly Olly oxen free!” Burt sings to us. He takes the wadded up tissue at the twist, puts it deep in his mouth, swallows exaggeratedly and chases with a shot o...
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The Lay Club

Sean Cavanaugh
They tossed the balls with sticks, curved ones like worms at attention, going long and cutting short, creating the impression, with lines, that the dogs ran cir...
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Sea Foam

Brandon Forinash
It all started one of those late Thursday nights her first year of college when Elizabeth (Lizzy) was working on some essay or project (forgive me, I am telling...
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Modern Weapons

J.M. Lyons
Since the divorce, my daughter and I use the oak tree in the backyard of my rental house as target practice. It’s our way of bonding. I convince Sarah to preten...
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STRAY

Lynn Rossi
G was back from Berlin and texted, so I went to his place. The 3 to the L, ears popping below the East River. It was August and muggy. More gray had crept into ...
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Breakup Robot

Liz Fyne
I married the breakup robot. Her name was Lucia. She’d been rented by Joan, my girlfriend of seven years, who’d tired of our relationship but didn’t feel like g...
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