COUPLED PENDULA by Krista Jahnke
November 4, 2022
She hits the button to go live and slowly eats something. It could be anything: an apple, a banana, a small granola bar. Comments fly in, encouraging her.
Short
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I AM GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING ABOUT MOLI by Sarah Cavar
October 28, 2022
Since I met MOLI she has of course been my vital thing.
SUDAN by Fatima Alharthi
October 21, 2022
How sad is to witness the deflection of someone from your own ethnicity, who breathes the same air, eats the same dishes, but is enemy to your land’s ethos?
A MAN FROM THE LORD by Jude Dexter
September 30, 2022
The plague, the Good Prophet told them, was a judgment, and it would lay Harpers to waste if they did not repent, so they begged the Lord for mercy.
FALSE PROPHET by Brett Willis
September 9, 2022
About five minutes after merging onto I-95 south, Karl’s mattress flew from the car’s roof. This was despite Tom’s best efforts; he had found a ball of twine in the back of Karl’s ex-girlfriend’s closet and managed a couple of extra loops around. Before its departure, the mattress had flopped on the roof like some overzealous wrestler. As, in the rearview mirror, Karl’s mattress frisbeed over the shoulder, Tom felt the stinging heat of resentment rise at the base of his throat. Once again, Karl would need someone else to help him out of a jam of his own making.
THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE by Ben Dreith
September 2, 2022
Death makes us horny! And I’m trying to see if all the cumming affects my fever.
DADS ON DECK by Garrett Stack
August 26, 2022
Cal gazes up in adoration, face illuminated in the glow of outdated technology, and tears stream down his face.
AT THE WELL by Nathan Grover
August 19, 2022
Perhaps by now they weren’t the most well-adjusted people they’d ever been. Perhaps by now they’d become, even to themselves, a little strange.
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.
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