AIRPLANE MODE • by Ben Chase
9:50 AM Ali Calls won’t work. Somthing bads hpning on the plane. i thnk itsgoin ti crash I love you. ur face isall i c. rest is 4 T. pls correct + write out n letter. U’ll no when to… Continue Reading
Literary
LIFT • by Fiona Murray
When he didn’t get the promotion life became monotonous. He worked in ‘accounts receivable’, in a logistics company, on the top floor of a tall building. He was allowed one personal photo on the pin board at his workstation, so… Continue Reading
GIG • by Brett Bailey
It was a shitty little black-and-brown joint squeezed into the leftover space between a sports bar and a gun store. People called it a hole in the wall. It was more like a hole in the ground, one you stumbled… Continue Reading
DEMONSTRATION IN THE PUBLIC ELEVATOR • by Lynn Kozlowski
I could be late for the Ethics Committee meeting on the 12th floor of the hospital. Clearing security with my University ID, I am in front of the arriving elevator with two others. I nod to the new member of… Continue Reading
A WOUNDED ANIMAL • by H. E. Vogl
A late June crescent moon hung in the sky like a sickle as I strolled along North Ogden examining the pointed two-story homes that lined both sides of the street. Each one the same except for color, shrubbery, or an… Continue Reading
POPSICLES • by Kevin Tasker
Sam and Katie dash into the surf. They are four and six and so full of life it breaks Anna’s heart. She’s walking twenty yards behind them. Her husband, Jim, trudges along beside her. “Don’t go out too far,” Anna… Continue Reading
PITCH AND CATCH • by Hunter Prichard
Petey had been pitching the baseball against the house for the last hour. He kept an eye on the street, watching for his father’s car. It would be too early for him to be getting home, but his father had… Continue Reading
HOW WE MET: • by Kali Thurber
In a virtual space designed to feel like a pickup bar, but I wish we’d seen each other across the ravaged land of the apocalypse. Rubble of the old life slowly decaying under warm light of the indifferent morning sun,… Continue Reading
WHERE DREAMS WANDERED • Andrew M Jaromin
When I was nine, my dad warned me about the dangers of dreaming. “You know, it’s like if you drink too much water, it shuts down the electrical connections and you just keel on over,” he’d said in his woodchip… Continue Reading
TWO STRIKES • Frank C. Modica
We had chosen our baseball teams in the alley behind our houses like always and started to walk down the block to the special lot, the one we still called our prairie; the only open space left in our neighborhood… Continue Reading