Fiction
August Contributors
Aditya Bhatia,Cooper Clarence, and Kenton Sage Schmidt
remind yourself daily
by Austin Eichelberger
“Brush your teeth and shower, comb your hair, put on fresh socks and underwear, smile at people like nothing is wrong.”
clean
by Julia Gilmour
“My mother wakes us at dawn, just as the sun streams through cloudy windows. She hands me an old, ratted rag and a bottle of Windex, and I stand at the back window in my pajamas, trying to clean without leaving streaks.”
ice box confessional
by Cake Sanchez
“Must be an angel, the boy who stomps on Pringles by the beverage cooler. Raaahhhhhr he yells, raawwararrr as the feathers behind his back lift him above another doomed chip.”
motel room prophecies of the pink pythoness
by Rachel Christina McConnell
“She holds the Devil card up to the webcam, his third eye an emerald glittering in the forehead of an ogre. “Someone with green eyes is watching you,” she says, and it feels like she’s talking to you, calling you out as a green-eyed viper…”
no body
by Renuka Raghavan
“On Thursdays, Chandra rents herself out as a shadow…She learns their outlines quickly. A man with a chipped tooth wants his shadow longer than his body. A woman who smells of bleach wants no arms. They pay in coins warmed by pockets.”
she’s
by Frances Gapper
“watching baby starling that great fluffy lump of entitlement plumped on the feeder’s crossbar waiting to have seedy mush inserted in its beak shoved down its throat hurry up mummy-daddy…”
second act
by Judy Slitt
“now [my mom’s] on stage, saying “Look, there’s my son!” and pointing to me in the front row. “He’s the reason my pussy is so big that a train could go inside!” This sets her off on a round of “My pussy is so big” jokes.”
the hunter
by Laura Brann
“The shadow of a saguaro drapes over my quarry like an armored blanket. But that armor can only offer protection from a sun that scorches the earth without remorse. There is no protection from me.”
the goat
by Jonas David
“…only before me in that pool of light with the witches and the goat, only there could I see a kind of peace, and I heard the crackling of the flame…and the witches laughed and murmured among themselves as I entered their circle of light.”
in turns
by Tanuja Viswanath
“By the time our oldest siblings were married off, Amma’s hold on us had loosened…We scrounged, learned to boil rice and peel onions without crying, but the days of fresh murukku were gone.”
i met god in a bookstore
by Tracie Adams
“When I spotted the paper dolls among a display of children’s picture books, I felt my body shrink into itself. Suddenly, I was eight again, pulled to the carpeted floor in a crossed-leg position by images of girls in white underwear.”
overshirt
by Dane Rook
“It’s a ratty denim overshirt. Chore-scarred and sweat-skunked. His wife outlawed it inside – told him the only place it’s allowed in the house is the fireplace.”
the alligator
by Elridge Thomas III
“I have wondered since whether he wept from hunger, pleasure, or the chore of living.”
servant
by Oliver Land
“The dog ran into traffic and was hit by a car. The man rushed into the road, and held it in his arms, screaming. There was a lot of blood on the road.”
goo babies til the money runs out
by Miles Efron
“Little cramp. Some pressure. Then, as I wok us a stir fry, it slides out of the cuff of my pants leg. Splat! The baby stares up at me with its water-colored eyes. And as I admire my first-born, I feel a pang of awe.”
mr. hollywood
by Christie Chapman
“We started calling him “Mr. Hollywood.” The brothers he beat up as kids now joked that they wanted to be part of his entourage.”
a tribute to henry in apartment 8f
by AP Ritchey
“The elevator took the long way down—it always did—and in that rattling, humming descent I caught myself thinking about Henry…”
it’s unfortunate
by Blake Christian
“His mouth yawned open and moved further into hers, then he placed his hand on her waist. She felt his tongue then, too, and all at once the fermented blend of copper and beer was unavoidable.”
familial spirits
by Peter Naughton
“Her brother seemed like the same goofy, smiley kid he’d always been. Except for the part about him thinking that their father was haunting them.”
othering
by Andrea Damic
“You call us Locust. We are many. We eat the remains of what we find, scavenging trash cans, to feed our young. Some of us survive on blood, while others feast on their prey, unable to suppress their predatory nature.”