Prose
Centerline
Sydney MacGilvray It’s a bright and sunny day, and you are a good person. Of this you’re almost certain. You like to tell yourself stories, don’t you? Stories where scary things happen on dark and stormy nights. Stories where you’re in control. Stories where people who do bad things get punished. Stories where you’re not… Read More Centerline
the art of gift giving
Allen You The Beach Tell all the truth but tell it slant — My mother is on a spiritual journey. She’s been on this journey for half a year now. She said that she needed to take a break from everything, so she was going to take a trip to calm her nerves. She gave… Read More the art of gift giving
Like a Rolling Stone
Katy Yun It is one of those fall days that make you remember things largely forgotten. For instance: Clementine shoulders past families of four, dads (not fathers) with beer bellies and actuarial glasses, mothers (not moms) dressed in suede and funky sweaters, babies and children, babies and children, and she remembers that each one is… Read More Like a Rolling Stone
Canon in Suburbia
Sophie Konde The house I wake up in is differentiated from the one next door only by the rusty door knocker, a muted silver, instead of the brassy handle of the neighbors. The driveway has cracks in ever so slightly different places from the unceasing freezing rain, which batters at the ceiling during the nights… Read More Canon in Suburbia
Hairline River
April Li Qiu was only 21 when her hair began to fall out in clumps. She’d moved to Brooklyn nearly a month ago, when the streets were slushy and brown. The January had been wet; it always rained and never snowed, cold droplets prickling her face as she hurried onto the J platform at Marcy… Read More Hairline River
Antigone Canadensis
Emily Hancock Antigone canadensis 1. She is born with her eyes open—this startles him. Babies are meant to be pink and wrinkled and angry; wailing, eyes shut tight. But her eyes are open. Deep brown, like his. He had been hoping for a son, secretly. They are easier, he thinks. Trainable, like dogs. Girls are… Read More Antigone Canadensis
Seasonal Offerings
Thrinav Sathya “Well, really, there’s only one man in this world who is capable of killing me. And as I’ve decided to delay my inevitable suicide, for all intents and purposes, now, there are zero. ” – the assassin known as Seasonal, recorded in a self-evaluation report to the Syndicate, August of 2019 From… Read More Seasonal Offerings
Scrap Metal
Eliza Tucker A few miles out from Route 82 in the low glow of dusk, two men descended on Bell Lane Church in a quiet fury. Having grown up in Clanton, Alabama, Jude and his younger brother Petey knew the church well–they had snickered during sermons and pulled faces at each other from across their… Read More Scrap Metal
Bumble Bea
Alijah Hill He looked like he was maybe still half alive. Or she. I think most bees are Hes if they aren’t the queen, and God, I hoped this wasn’t the queen; the queen of bees going out alone, limp on the concrete. There would be no reason. So I convinced myself it was a… Read More Bumble Bea
Men and Women
Olivia Mofus My mother, despite her public classiness, often makes the same joke about giving us breast milk. Whenever we’d say something about the past, or act childishly affectionate towards her, she’d say, “Aww… do you want breast milk?” pushing a boob, heavy with age, towards our now-annoyed faces in the same raunchy manner –… Read More Men and Women
