THE TORTOISE AND HIS PROBLEMS by Rodrigo Restrepo Montoya and Wes Holtermann
August 5, 2022
Hours spent nude on plinths in those drafty rooms, and only one painting had ever done him justice.
Fiction
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THE PROMENADE EXPRESS by Lauren Baker
August 3, 2022
On bad days, I fantasized about taking a sledgehammer to the train. I knew where the security cameras were (and weren’t).
ARMS by Xavier Blackwell-Lipkind
August 1, 2022
Pink light oozes in; just like that, it’s day, and I sigh because nothing bad can happen during the day. It’s a rule, and we don’t break rules.
ENDLESS VIOLENCE AT APlusAtHomeDialysis.com by June Martin
July 29, 2022
Sunlight glimmered off the van’s undercarriage, rays of white and blue and golden light mingling in beams and flares captured by the helicopter’s dazed camera. The police took potshots at the minivan as it soared past them.
CONFESSIONS OF A WINGMAN by Kyle Lung
July 27, 2022
Well first they sent chimps into space. Then men. And now they say humans will not walk on mars. I’ve heard they’re saving that for robots.
STUDIO by Trevor Wing
July 25, 2022
We signed a 72 and ¾ month lease for our studio. The market is tough in San Diego.
INEVITABLE HOLMES by Oli Johns
July 22, 2022
Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes.
THE PRIVATE MUSEUM OF MISS MARGARET by Zhu Yue translated by Jianan Qian and Alyssa Asquith
July 20, 2022
Like some unmarried and childless women, she is aloof, arrogant, and easily annoyed. But this takes nothing away from her great charitable contributions.
TRAPPED AIR by Corey Miller
July 18, 2022
I stand naked at my bedroom window as the community arrives, unhitching buggies next to the barn and freeing their horses within the pasture fencing. It’s Father’s turn to host church. My hands find the tumbled smooth surface of the yellow citrine, amplifying the power of the sun, torrential and vitalizing. My altar, the top of the maple dresser Father built, is aligned with crystals. Each one unique, delivering its effects to the possessor. The dresser stores my bonnets and dresses, different hues of pink and gray. Sundays are always black. None with pockets; Amish don’t believe in secrets. The Radiant Rider-Waite
RABBITS OUT BACK IN THE BURN PILE by Nat Baldwin
July 15, 2022
If we found him we dragged him back up the hill into the house. Our faces would burn if we did not do this. Sometimes, even if we dragged him back to where he belonged, we would still get punished.