You know what’s worse than a family dinner? I’ll tell you: a fucking wedding dinner. Every random relative that you’ve ever encountered once, three millenniums ago, and whose existences are perfectly inconsequential to you but apparently primordial to the familial circle, reunited in the same room. Annoyance grated me as I observed people, whose blood was the only thing we had in common, hypocritically saluting … Continue reading Family Matters by Sarah Siham
I felt powerless…and chickened out at what was supposed to be my defining moment. Instead, I was a coward who backed away five minutes into grasping destiny with a finger on the trigger. Methodically, I stripped the rifle with disgust, placing the parts neatly into the gym bag. I slung it over my shoulder and crossed the abandoned warehouse floor, taking the stairs in lieu … Continue reading A Sudden Change of Plans by Mike Lee
At 10:30, the receptionist at the front desk gave off the look of a mortician, heightened by her jet-black hair with the white streak in the bangs that evoked a mid-90s memory of one of the band members in Luscious Jackson. As well as what I realized decades ago: punk is not a uniform. Instead, it was a way of thinking—an attitude. The latter came … Continue reading The Princess of Morticians by Mike Lee
Last week Stephanie showed me the picture: young woman in a yellow sundress, dazzling smile full of teeth and expectation, small child in her arms. “That’s Mother with me.” “Decades ago…” “She hasn’t aged, Frank,” my girlfriend said dismissively. So when my administrative assistant told me Margaret Folsom Clark was in the showroom, I hurried out to meet her. Of course, I recognized her instantly. … Continue reading Drinks, Maybe Dinner by Paul Lewellan
I’m still confused as to why I was fired from the clothing store on my first day when all I was trying to do was be helpful, supportive and direct with each of my customers. I told them honestly and fairly what I thought of the clothing they were purchasing so that each would be satisfied and want to return to the store again. As … Continue reading Misunderstood by Jeffrey Zable
In his 2017 book, Kids These Days, Malcolm Harris predicts, among other things, the eventual raging return of on-blast misogyny (what he refers to as the “misogynist backlash”). Mainly as a result of looking for a scapegoat to blame for the way things are when, in fact, things are that way as a direct result of the patriarchal, male-spewed “values” we all still adhere to … Continue reading As The #MeToo Backlash Continues, Let Us Remember the Short Stories of Emma Cline’s Daddy
I catch glimpses of her darting across campus. I turn my head, and she’s gone. Blue jeans, fluttering faded blue sleeves. Then one night I see her in the library, rattling a metal cart loaded with books down an aisle. Like a moth, I’m drawn there every night to get my fix of light: a glimpse of worn sandals, bare toes, twig fingers with little … Continue reading Jem in Love by Linda Ferguson
1. Let’s call her Lucy. Our creator, or “writer,” as she calls herself. She calls me Paul, although clearly, I’m Paolo. Paul meets Sasha at the café, Lucy writes, but there’s no dialogue yet, so we speak freely. Sasha (whose real name, unbeknownst to Lucy, is Chance) orders a chocolate croissant and a cappuccino. I, in an effort to stay fit, get a green juice. … Continue reading Diary of a Dissatisfied Character by Linda Ferguson
What a night. Diamonds, I tell you, were not a girl’s best friend, now or then. Fourteen bottles of white pills on my nightstand. And another one: blue, like the ribbon in my brown hair. The one I wore when they dragged me to the orphanage. That last night in 1962. I was unsheathed. Literally. My sleeveless apple green dress on the floor. Hair unwashed, … Continue reading Marilyn Monroe at 97 by Linda Ferguson
So there I was, having sex with Joyce Carol Oates, everything going quite nicely, lights low and spirits high—it’s hard to find the words but I felt taken toward another place, a good place, the best, and then an awareness came upon me. No doubt because of the way Joyce was twisting, the angle of her arm, a shift in my gaze and a glimpse … Continue reading Dearest Reader by Charles Holdefer
