IF SHE WERE AN ANIMAL by Cameron Darc
He fondles a piece of charcoal and looks at me before touching the paper. The line makes a limp imitation of a spine. A nose appears.
COMPANY MAN by Jeff Karr
The lord’s light is a fathomless null. Sometimes you’re afforded a glimpse and it’s a tunnel on the other side of which you crawl on the accordioned car’s ceiling.
SMOKE AND FISH by Uyen P. Dang
At first everyone blamed the smoke on the war, then the steel plant, and, finally, the water. But Ong Hai says it’s not water but grief at the bottom of the sea.
AT THE VERY CENTER OF YOU IS NOTHING by Alice M.
The masks were thin, pliable. They attached to her skin, seamless. They emoted for her, always appropriate, guaranteed to fetch the reaction she wanted.
HEARTLESS by Alex Sullivan
Those twins out of St. Paul are doing some live podcast tour about living without lungs but that’s easy, the no lungs thing.
WHEN IT FIRST STARTED COMING DOWN IT WAS BEAUTIFUL by Billy Irving
The Weatherman describes the snow as dumping. Feathery bundles fall against all things and accumulate against all things, and besides that: the grey, and the cawing of invisible birds.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS by Aaron Burch
It was exciting and sad and over too fast and underwhelming and amazing, all at the same. It was all of it. It was beautiful.
LANGUAGE by Steve Gergley
His physique is quite distressing. It is not something I like to observe.
PEGGING by Josh Sherman
Like anything, Hot Wheels has a language. Like any language you encounter, you want to make this one your own.
PSALM 23 by Glenn Orgias
At sixteen I went ocean swimming. I swam so deep that the land turned into a thin grey line. The ocean turned into hills like blue elephants.