Archives

TICK by J. Eagleson

March 17, 2025

You are a tick. You fly through the air on an arc of static electricity, in hopes of landing on something alive and real. Your travel is always a courtesy of others, or an unexpected spark of nature. Purgatory for you is a blade of grass or a dark sock that renders you a shadow in the night as you crawl towards your heaven of soft flesh. You latch onto the shadow of her ankle, monosyllabic in name and purpose. People around here tend to wear socks — she does not. A waft of odor floats up from her shoes,

“I’LL DO” by Sacha Francis

March 14, 2025

“I’m not doing a reading for you.” “You do have the cards, though,” Drew sneered. He was laying the deck out in four piles – the way he shuffled Magic. “Yeah,” I said, “but only ‘cause they’re dads.” “And you know how to do it.” He conjoined the sets, his thumbs bending around the feathered edges at first, joking like he wanted to riffle them. I shot him evils and he shot back worse, his nose and eyes scrunching up to mock me. He was like a girl. “Sort of,” I said. I’d never done it for anyone but myself.

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT WE WERE LOBSTERS by Melanie Mulrooney

March 13, 2025

Last night I dreamt we were lobsters. I was tucked behind a rock, hiding from the cod swimming overhead. The bright blue of your claw caught my attention; one in two million, deliciously unique. “You’re new here,” I rasped. “Lobsters can’t talk,” you replied. Your antenna twitched in my direction. I crouched in my shadowed crevice, waiting for the light to cease filtering to the ocean floor, for you to come and make me yours. But first, you had to prove yourself—fight your way to dominance. The reigning champion of our rocky oasis charged, his brown-green a stark contrast to

MAGIC by James Callan

March 12, 2025

I was doing my damnedest to hide in a mountain of gold coins in the vaults of Gringotts. I was properly concealed, buried in all those glittery riches, all but my rock-hard arousal, which was like the mast of a mostly sunken ship sticking out of a sea of wealth. I couldn’t help it. I was thinking about Harry, his hairy treasure trail, his hot, wet mouth and warm goblet of fire. I moaned beneath the mound of resplendent wizards’ gold, panting within the riches of witches, which brought on the unwanted attention of a little ugly goblin. He wanted

STUFF YOUR FACE WITH SCOTT LAUDATI by Scott Laudati

March 11, 2025

A special offshoot of our Recommends series, where Scott Laudati enjoys the planet’s best foodstuffs and eateries. New York City, 2010. It’s a 24-hour city. Budweisers are $3. We complain about the rent but a one bedroom is $950. Something big is happening every night in Brooklyn. The So So Glos are playing in a loft and our friend Dasha knows the door code. The garment building hasn’t been annexed by Netflix yet, its basement is rented by an old Marxist who calls it “The CCCP Gallery” and Drew is having his art show there tomorrow. And most importantly, pizza,

AN EXCERPT FROM ‘AMERICAN LIT’ by Jennifer Greidus

March 10, 2025

While Ollie and I get stoned in his car every morning before school, I use my phone to take online career quizzes. I think in reverse, responding as I believe Mr. Stewart would. My mission is to find the amalgam of answers that triggers the “teacher” verdict. Only then will I know everything to say and do around him. My favorite quiz—and the most thorough—was created by an Ivy League school to assist its undergrads. I log into that one about once a day. Among others, my hypothetical responses produced these career options: CPA, correctional officer, lawyer, architect, and copy

CLUSTER by Katherine Plumhoff

February 28, 2025

People say they see their dead moms in blue jays and buttercups, robins and rhododendrons, but mine told me she’d never come back as something so abominably dull, and to keep an eye out for spiders. It’s a bright spring day and mown grass, cut by a neighbor, foams at the edges of the yard like a fresh-pulled pint. I am crouched in the corner of the patio, sifting through a 50L sack of soil that’s been slumped here since she lost the strength to stand. Digging for arachnids and coming up short. Two trowels deep. Late and making us

HUNTING & GATHERING by Keely Curttright

February 26, 2025

Margot is a speck of red in her bright winter coat, scurrying up the cracked and litter-strewn sidewalk, her mousy brown hair a sad pinprick at the center of this speck and her breath a puff of vapor before her. This is, at least, how she envisions herself. She rarely leaves the apartment anymore, but when she does, she finds herself imagining her appearance, always as something unsuspecting and insignificant. She has tried to give up this habit but can’t help herself. A bug-eyed pigeon hops across the sidewalk and pecks at a discarded bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. As

ANT STORY by Michael Seymour Blake

February 8, 2025

IDLE ANIMATION by Ryan Petersen

February 7, 2025

I made sure never to start the day. Abstained from True Conscious Hours. And yet, somehow, it went on without me. The sweat underneath my upper thighs became my five o’clock work whistle, an inarguable sign that the day was already over, before it had ever begun. Weeks went by like this. So smooth and easy that I hardly took notice. For I was a junkie, refreshing my feed with abandon, in willful avoidance of the aforementioned True Conscious Hours. YouTube was where I found the good stuff. I let the algorithm swaddle me tight, held in close by its