Fiction

The two women stood from the augured hole as ice crystallized on the fishing line. Beth rolled her lips over her teeth and bit down. Her incisors ached with the cold and blowing snow. Finally, Henry asked, “Did you touch … Continue reading →

I didn’t believe him for the longest time. Three years since Mama’s passing, and he continued to see her. Day before the sale, I heard him scramble into his pants and flannel, laces criss-crossing, light still murky uncertain. I knew … Continue reading →

I had a neighbor who said she kept a whistle by the telephone. Whenever a telemarketer called, she’d blow the whistle into the phone’s receiver. I wasn’t sure whether this was a terrible or a brilliant idea. Her name was … Continue reading →

The first test of Filadelfio Vera’s resolve came on a hot day. From the instant he climbed into the Jeep he did not stop sweating. All morning long, rivulets ran down his legs and collected in his socks. They ran … Continue reading →

Trevor Weersta dragged a dead calf across one of his father’s empty fields. He pulled it carefully by the legs, each hand wrapped tightly around the ankle. When Trevor came to the burial ditch at the side of the field, … Continue reading →

Today is the one-year anniversary of the Conway High Massacre, as it has come to be called, and we—the nineteen surviving gunshot victims—have converged on the large desolate field where Travis Covington, 17, filmed his now-infamous video diary before opening … Continue reading →