Center of Insurance Against Villains
speculative fiction by H.M. Wheat The neighborhood was built in the seventies and didn’t seem to have been upgraded at all since then. All the… Read More »Center of Insurance Against Villains
speculative fiction by H.M. Wheat The neighborhood was built in the seventies and didn’t seem to have been upgraded at all since then. All the… Read More »Center of Insurance Against Villains
We miss them, the men. We miss their stomping feet, their honking noses, their hearty exclamations. We miss hearing their voice first in a crowd.… Read More »After – flash fiction by Aimee LaBrie
I’ve taken a long break from writing. Feels long perhaps, but it’s been a little less than a month. I’d like to say I spent… Read More »Saldaña Roca’s Magical Mushrooms — flash fiction by Martin Weissgerber
The Electric Is-ness of Life: Three flash fictions by Michele Wong.
The five of us drive four hours back from the clinic in Sioux Falls, switching the music from Hozier to Tracy Chapman to the Avett… Read More »Waiting Period – flash fiction by Sarah McKinnis
Last Thursday at the bar, while we were fumbling out our wallets to pay, Michael started telling us about the new kick he’s been on.… Read More »The New Kick – flash fiction by Kayla Czaga
So I finally phoned the number in the bathroom, the one that promises a good time. I’d been going to the pub for several weeks… Read More »A Good Time – flash fiction by Kayla Czaga
Claire’s Spurting Disk (1 of 6) continue… Claire R Lynch is an artist and teacher based out of the Washington DC area. At the age… Read More »Spine Sketchbook: A Story in Illustration by Claire Lynch
That’s what the news warned. Everyone but the doomsday planners and the resolute old men evacuated long before it happened. From luxury boats or the… Read More »The World Is Ending in Tampa, Florida! by Paige Blackburn
1. Ingredients I try to find solace in the little things. Making bread, for example. The refuge of repetition as I knead the dough, fingers… Read More »The Truth Is — by Stephanie Buesinger
At the sculpture park we fail to connect. By connect, I mean recover. And so, we stack rocks. In silence we balance them without great… Read More »Here, from Outer Space–by Mackenzie Singh