Category: Prose
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Weddings
Ben Warner fiction, Ben Warner short story, Ben Warner Weddings, Benjamin Warner, Benjamin Warner Weddings, Weddings Ben Warner, Weddings Benjamin WarnerFiction by Benjamin Warner There was a month of them. Saturdays. Back to back without a break. The first was a Catholic ceremony in a church with a ceiling painted midnight blue with silver and yellow constellations.
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Asphalt. Pumpernickel. Iron
Andrew Siegrist, Asphalt Andrew Siegrist, Asphalt Pumpernickel Iron, asphalt pumpernickel siegrist, Asphalt siegrist, short fiction siegrist, short story siegristFiction by Andrew Siegrist The boy’s hands smelled like asphalt and the girl held them tight like she was afraid if the world kept spinning she’d lose her balance.
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Small Talk
dyzak fiction, dyzak short fiction, dyzak short story, lance dyzak, small talk fiction, small talk short fiction, small talk short storyFiction by Lance Dyzak “You look good,” I said, “took care of yourself, seems like.” I meant it, too. There was a feeling of correctness, like finding the thread on a mason jar.
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Up, Up: From Furrow to Silo
Julia Shipley, nonfiction, nonfiction by julia shipley, nonfiction short, Up Up from Furrow to Silo, up up nonfiction, up up nonfiction shipleyNonfiction by Julia Shipley Go ahead, tell me your totem animal is Wolf, She-bear, Eagle. Mine? Heat Bug, Jar Fly, Lyre Man: Magicicada Septendecula.
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Lap Dance
Nonfiction by Katherine Heiny (Imaginary conversation with my parents: “This is my daughter-in-law, Brandi. She works at Hooters.”)
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The Last Night of the Horizon
fiction Nemec, Jason Basa Nemec, Last Night of the Horizon, Nemec Horison, Short fiction nemec, short story NemecFiction by Jason Basa Nemec What can I say about the way Tommy Jensen played guitar, the way he sang?
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The Fool Killer
Fool Killer, michael poor story, Michael Poore, michael poore short stories, michael poore stories, Poore Fool Killer, short fiction, short fiction michael poore, short fiction poore, short story, short story Poore, The Fool KillerBy Michael Poore They were going to hang John. John was five. He lived on a farm with his aunt and uncle and some cousins, and an eighty-year-old grandmother they called Big Ma. Big Ma wasn’t big. She was a frail old lady, and they all treated her like she might break at…
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Ski Lesson
Becky Mendelbaum, mendelbaum ski lesson, non-fiction short, nonfiction short, nonfiction story, Ski Lesson, ski lesson mendelbaumBy Becky Mendelbaum When I tell my mother I’m going skiing, she laughs. “That’s strange,” she says. “You’ve always hated skiing.”