Tag Archive: Fiction

Shluchim: A Tale of Tel Aviv — Thomas P. Balázs

It was a night like any of a thousand I had spent precisely the same way in the same place, silently, mindlessly, waiting, heedless of anything but quiet, patient hunger. I was perched… Continue reading

The Event of Illness — Kevin Kilroy

Editor’s Note This diary was found among the notebooks of Lee Revzin, a poet. They are published without alteration. We have reason to believe Lee Revzin is a nom de plume. These pages… Continue reading

WHITEOUTS — Jason Kapcala

There’s slush around the tires, and Burl Ives is singing “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas,” and Tessa rides shotgun in my brand new Dodge Charger. It’s a snub-nosed beast, a shark. Heated seats… Continue reading

A Path to Citizenship — David Amadio

Edgar squinted in the hard shine of the policeman’s flashlight. He was sitting on the sidewalk with his back against a chain-link fence. His neck felt like someone had twisted it halfway round.… Continue reading

The Seashell — z.m. quỳnh

  March, 2015, San Jose, California Bà Ngoại’s hypnotic song fills the darkness of the room, echoing through the small chamber of the seashell. I pull it close to my head, nestling my… Continue reading

HORSES — Kate Millar

He and She drank green tea in a Hanoi alley where a woman had just slaughtered three chickens. As the woman held the limp necks and plucked feathers from the carcasses, He and… Continue reading

Ridden — Jason Marc Harris

“Memory is another name for ghosts and their awful hunger.” — from “Apple” by Eugene Gloria   It was Hmong New Year. Phang was thirteen-years-old, and Grandfather Zaj told his stories to the… Continue reading

PLOW — Wendell Mayo

After teaching my morning section of first-year composition, I give my tally to Professor Gertrude Montbatten: NINE students owning up to misused possessives, EIGHT run-ons consecutively colliding in zany train wrecks, and SEVEN… Continue reading

THE YOUNG AND MAGICAL MAGICIAN — SUSAN WOODRING

That year for Christmas, their fifteen-year-old son asked for a magic kit. But neither parent thought this was a good idea. Brandon was too old for such a toy. The dad was embarrassed… Continue reading

THE EAR — Patrick Crerand

The two professors sat in the cafeteria near a large bank of windows that afforded a view of the college’s swimming pool one story below. It was a hot day and a few… Continue reading

ALL THESE STREETS ARE HILLS — David Amadio

And though I am rosy and hale, I am no Sisyphus. I understand that you are desperate, that you are in a tight spot, but I cannot help you. My time is valuable, more valuable than you can imagine. I don’t lend it out to just anyone. Besides, we hardly know one another.