Salamander 2024 Fiction Contest

SUBMIT: May 1 through June 2, 2024 | READING FEE: $15

SUBMIT ENTRIES NOW

Flight

poetry
  the day an airplane crashed, the air became heavy with the aura of mouths sore with grieving songs. I was taught to plead with the fire in my broken…

Confession

poetry
  —for M.F.O.   Sent to the front, all around me                       crack & steel fire, shouting voices— I feared no death, only sat down bullets buzzing hornets past head—            And…

Diorama

poetry
  First, the remains of foil balloons littering the bank of the pond, a string once tied to a child’s wrist. Then, a pilot in uniform,   perhaps on leave,…

The Yard

poetry
  When your husband is buried just a few steps away from the house how can you ever leave? When you can open the front door and say “It’s a…

The Mirror’s Edge

poetry
  She slept with the bear to relieve herself of the burden of purity to travel the world alone with only a backpack.   Apple trees lit up with ten…

Scattering

poetry
  —after Aimee Mann   I can still feel the ricochet of myself at sixteen, the windows cracked and gone down the years.   There’s no warning. I was already…

Here

poetry
  Here, there is a great big willow that gives its shade in the summer. Wilted little leaves tumble into my lap. I bury the dry bodies of ants. I…

Herzog’s Penguin

poetry
  What does it mean to leave a colony? A penguin is heading toward the mountains, directionless, slow and strange. Pearlwort smashed under heavy snow, he follows the grey light…

Crossing Lake Champlain at Night

poetry
  Our directions said take exit 31 or 33 so we of course took 32 and drove off the map into thin gray roads, slanting drizzle, pairs of Rottweilers guarding…