Numbers and names littered the backside of the shade, the only log of the burials in existence. It seemed to cast a shadow that swallowed the light and sucked the air from the room, making it hard to breathe. He located Grace Atkinson’s mother’s gravesite in the exact spot where the bucket truck was parked, the shovel set to gouge the earth and deposit the remains in a hill of dust and bones.… More
Drool Party
FLASH FICTION by Perry GenovesiOne night a year in early July, the men and boys in swimsuits squat at the pool’s ledge to await two lifeguards’ whistles. The chlorine is all they smell, the burbling water is all they hear and—blindfolded—they see only black.… More
Contemporary Parenting
CREATIVE NONFICTION by Andrew BertainaThe father preferred to talk about nature, about ideas, but neither of his kids were old enough for that now, so he found himself talking about overdoses.… More
Two Stories
FICTION by LambGeorge is anti-gun. He’s anti-faith, despite once brimming with it. He once put his hand on my shoulder and said, I’m just glad that you and I aren’t toxic males. I laughed and said, Speak for yourself, and things have been off between us since.… More
Jimmy
CREATIVE NONFICTION by Stephanie YoungJimmy was not a person I would have considered having sex with. We had a symbiotic relationship in which all parties benefited except everyone else in the class. I can only imagine how cringy it was to witness, but in a room full of mirrors, it’s easy to trust no one else is looking at you.… More
TWO FLASHES
FICTION by David YourdonI’ve always wanted to have ancestors who would tell me what to do. A rough Irishman with a leathery face. A stout German with a simple, but unshakable worldview. But I only had a father, and he was mostly absent, and he died when I was a teenager. And so I read about Winston Churchill.… More
Sins of the Fathers
FICTION by David LuntzMaybe Uncle Kev saw himself in the prophets. Or as one of them. A middle-aged bachelor, former heavyweight boxer, dabbling in spirituality, painting his nails, sewing dresses. Transitioning. Maybe he was broken, too.… More
Uncle Alberto Hates His Job
CREATIVE NONFICTION by Rina PalumboI like driving; he once told me you can go anywhere. He still had curly hair, mostly grey, and a mustache, which I think he dyed. He wore pointy shoes but no shiny clothing anymore. Just the dullness, the creases in his face hardening. The loathing of everything and everyone dampened only by the hard ache of time.… More
Home Ec
FICTION by George SingletonMy father, who worked on and off part-time as a salesman, plying anything from vacuum cleaners to Better-than-Brillo, wore oversized shoes because he thought it gave him an advantage. Later on I learned that there was some kind of correlation between large feet and penis sizes. Did he know this? Was he going door-to-door and showing off these shoes in order to both mesmerize and conjure unsatisfied women? I don’t know.… More
The Second Generation, Then the Third
FICTION by Joseph WeinerI said to my wife on our first date, I’m not a nice guy. She says, Yes you are. I say, No, really, I’m not. She says, I’ll make you into a nice guy. I say, You can’t stuff two pounds of broken bones into a one-pound bag. Some people hurt too much. She says, I’ll make you into a nice guy.… More
They Say Crying Is Good For You, But I Find It Depressing
FICTION by Alex RostThe bench he sits on is old. It is not well built. The wood it’s made from hasn’t smoothed over time, but has instead splintered. He wonders if it will be replaced when it is worn through past use. He looks at his hands, arthritis gnarled, and decides that he doesn’t care.… More
