Category: Prose

  • Ithaca

    By Bryan Price [] As the interview was winding down, she ran her hand through her hair distractedly and asked if I’d ever met him—Jean Dagault. I said, once, in Ithaca. She asked me what it was like and I said what was what like? Meeting him or what was he like? She said both or…

  • Body Doubles

    By Katie R McKay I’ve always hated the spring, but it’s the time of year I’m most prone to falling in love. When I think back to that spring, I think about so many things, things like the balmy weather, the day drinking, the rolling nature of the days, one blurring into another in a…

  • Indio, California

    By Britt Astrid Alphson There is a viciousness about it, Indio. Bark scorpions and the collapsing of breath, of time, of anything besides a careening sort of heat. The Morongo Casino Resort juts from the soil like some beckoning reptilian creature: the older patrons with their rotting teeth, acres folded upon acres of fuck-you-green putting…

  • The Elsewhere or: On Reading A Brief History of Time

    By Jacob Simmons In less than half a century, man’s view of the universe has been transformed. In less than a year, I’ll be forty. Jesus. Forty years old. When I was in my twenties, I moved to the middle of a blackberry field, into a farmhouse that roasts me like a chicken when Fresno…

  • Sarvisberry


    Nita sits in the recliner in her dim bedroom, though it’s nearly noon. She parts the drapes to look for Peg’s car, but it doesn’t come, and it doesn’t come, and there’s that thump in Nita’s chest whenever her daughter is far from her.

  • A Good Host

    We bought the house privately. That was why we got lucky, because it wasn’t listed on any of the realty websites. There was just a sign in the road, pointing to a windy drive that ended at a detached garage.