Tag: fiction
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The Arrow of Time Only Points in One Direction
by Joe Woodward A mother, an elephant’s gray belly sliced pink, green sludge spilling out, grasses half-digested puddling in the midday sun. Violet shuddered remembering it from the television. The men waving their machetes over their heads. Somewhere in a jungle this was happening, or an abandoned zoo on the edge of a municipal park.…
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Our Blue World
by Morgan Rose-Marie It’s blue. This is the first thing Birdie notices. She fixates on the shade, matching it to memories like a DIY decorator comparing paint swatches. #03045e. Dark blue. 1.25% red, 1.6% green and a generous 36.9% blue. It’s a good color. But, if it weren’t for the color, Birdie might appreciate the…
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In the Woods Somewhere
by Sabrina Canepa At first, I thought the smell could’ve been the week-old microwave dinner, something with corn and peas and brined liquid, stewing in the garbage. I thought it could’ve been the garbage in general, sitting next to the side gate, as it had for over a week. The city…
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Lightning Bugs in January
by Derek Updegraff She imagined Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the gang squealing as the flames colored the gray sky. Her mom had said, “Toss them in. Go on, Becca. Toss them in.” So she tossed them in seconds ago, not hesitating because she knew better than to defy her mom. Her hands stung…
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Dumped
by Mark Brazaitis The first time one of Adrienne’s boyfriends ended the night in a dumpster was an accident. His name was Rupert, and besides his talent for riding a unicycle while wearing a Cat-in-the-Hat hat and his ability to speak spontaneously in rhyme, a quality Adrienne at first found charming, he wasn’t good…
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Frog Diet
by Joseph Charles Mollica Politely as though being watched, Oliver shoved in the same poor excuse for lunch he’d been shoving in for a month, a mostly salad-filled pouch, plus or minus some condiments. He licked the familiar trickle of neon-green dressing clean off his thumb, still unsure that none of his colleagues were watching.…
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I’m So Proud of You
by Tommy Cheis Admission standards for suicide bomber school were low. An applicant needed only be pious, unmarried, psychologically healthy, and thirteen years old. And all criteria were waivable. Graduation standards were lower. The technical demands are so minimal and evaluating the mastery of skills under mission conditions so impossible that no student ever failed…
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A Summer’s Night
by Joel Streicker The flight from San Francisco to Traverse City is delayed, so it’s after 11 pm when we arrive. By the time we—my wife, my kids Rachel and Sam, and I—collect our baggage and sort out the rental car, it’s nearly midnight. But we’re still on West Coast time, so we aren’t sleepy,…