Fiction

  He was born with a silver knife in his mouth. And he was its first victim. —Osama Alomar   Inside, the shop was limewashed and long enough to fit two barber chairs. A frameless mirror hung in front of … Read More

  The local news, projected to the bar by way of their staticky, cafeteria tray–sized TV, warned of severe storm conditions, possible flash flooding. That afternoon, the odd car that passed by did not stop; everyone had a home to … Read More

  A few days after I moved into the abandoned fisherman’s shack by the NIPSCO plant, my new neighbor Hymie gave me a hunting rifle and a box of ammo. “Consider it a housewarming gift,” he said. “A pretty girl … Read More

  The old man woke up screaming. The nurse, asleep in the next room and dreaming of the seaside, heard the scream as a black harpy screeching toward a flock of gulls circling the sea. The harpy grabbed a gull … Read More

  He called it the new house, but it was very old. The landlord wouldn’t say exactly. He’d said it was built in 1920 or 1900 or, once, “the late 1800s.” William wasn’t sure if he was being cagey or … Read More

  Today we mourn our great leader. A loss of great consequence: how hungry our stomachs, how boring our stories, how cold our campfires will be. No one knows when he arrived on this land. Some say he came when … Read More

  Dolores, nearing the end of her second ambulance shift of the week, sits in a plastic lawn chair outside the back of the fire station. Between calls she often hangs around there, away from the television in the common … Read More

  By the summer of 1993, my father had had enough of the war and decided it was time for a vacation. “We’ve been locked up for two years now, making food out of powder. Milk, mashed potatoes, soup,” he … Read More

  the labor nurse said, He’s got hair! while Todd looked between his fingers from across the room and I wiped the fluid glistening off Nicholas’s pink forehead, touched his shock of dark hair, like Todd’s, but his face was … Read More

  This is a work of fiction.   Raymond and I walked through the prison yard—from the back classroom, along the chain-link fence bordering dirt sports fields, down the long gravel courtyard between dorm buildings stenciled with JFK’s and MLK’s … Read More

  According to all the usual rules, the goat wasn’t allowed on the mail boat. But the captain would make an exception just this once for the new lighthouse keeper. With more of a show than Zan thought necessary, the … Read More

  Her mother had become a vegan. She rhymed it with “pagan,” like it was a religion. Which, the daughter thought—she shook the limp herbs dry—it was. They were making panzanella. Her mother tore the bread apart with little carnivorous … Read More