PEGGING by Josh Sherman
July 26, 2023
Like anything, Hot Wheels has a language. Like any language you encounter, you want to make this one your own.
Fiction
PSALM 23 by Glenn Orgias
July 24, 2023
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.
BEAR WITH A CHAINSAW by Joe Aguilar
July 17, 2023
Oh, the bear came with the house, I lied. The Lord hates a lying tongue, the pastor said.
SUPER BLACK by Sasha Brown
July 12, 2023
“It’s not that it disappears,” he said. “It’s just deep. It’s like a cliff. It goes all the way down. But it’s something new, Rico.”
DAVID’S GOING TO DIE by Aurora Huiza
July 5, 2023
Everybody in that coffee shop was always standing around, walking into each other, then backing up and trying again, like Sims, walking into the fridge, backing up, trying again.
UBËR by Mitch Russell
July 3, 2023
People—and I mean even absolute strangers—they’ll just talk and talk and talk and they expect you to listen to their whole life story. Have you ever experienced this? Do you know what I mean?
THE GOLD—OR SILVER—RUSH by Z.H. Gill
June 26, 2023
nevertheless i have grown tired of it already, as anyone in my situation would. anyway, i am stuck. hand looks bad.
THE HOLY PROFESSIONS by Ryan Griffith
June 19, 2023
There’s enough clogged hair to build a new human, one who believes in the plunger, the snake, the possibility that our channels will flow free.
ANOTHER CUSTOMER by Sascha Belle Nastasi
June 12, 2023
Her sandwich – mine now – is sloppily assembled, the melted cheddar thick with oil like a handsome man’s mucus. I eat without chewing much.
I AM MARKED SAFE by Ian Crutcher Castillo
June 7, 2023
A year and three months ago a stray bullet caught Mina in the face, just grazing it. She has a scar that trails down her left eye, back to her left ear. The scar looks like one tear crying. Sometimes, lightning strikes twice.