PASSENGER by Alexander Fredman
A fissure opened in the earth. The car found it, slowing in the way that makes you realize how fast you were going.
VISIONS: SINS by Ariel Courage
I’m not a smoker, but once a year or so I get a bad craving for CIGARETTES.
STUYVESANT BEE 214 by Mike Topp
Now just relax, take a deep breath, and try not to let your heart beat.
LA DAYS, LA NIGHTS: An Interview With Mallory Smart
At night, when the palm trees begin to cast shadows and the city begins to reflect the vast disparities between affluence and adversity, Stevie’s sleepless mind can no longer dream, literally and figuratively.
THE GLOW OF TUNGSTEN by Michael Ward
Just as there will be a day when I pick up my daughter for the last time, there was an evening when a lamplighter lit his last lamp.
OUR LAND SAYS MY SISTER LOOKED PEACEFUL by Myles Zavelo
Our Land turns particularly bleak at night; bicycles are stolen and dumpsters are torched. In the morning, users who sleep rough light spoons and burn up powders in front of little kids going to school.
VISIONS: Excerpt from ‘Pesquero’ by Jinnwoo
He had to sleep in my single bed. Compressed between me and the radiator of my teenage bedroom. Burning his back all night.
THE STUYVESANT BEE 215
My friend from Waffle House says if you stacked all the sausage patties they serve in one day, it would reach the top of the Empire State Building. I say, why bother?
IN THE MICROPLASTICS by Caleb Cloaca
The world’s all burning. You might as well buy yourself a pretty little (not so little) mansion. You can too: make love in the microplastics.
THE TEACHER by Melissa Benton Barker
The teacher hated the children. Ashley with her electric fence and Michelle with her little doll and Daniel with his frog.