Slash Magazine Contributor

Written By: Jackie Massaro Inspired by true events Her hand trails down my back, her fingers like a belt along the side of my waist. She was excited to see me. She had told me so the whole week in text messages and on phone calls. I can't wait to see you. I miss you.

Written By: Michael Sussman “Do you live?” It was Lyuba’s hoarse rasp through the crack in the cave wall separating their pits.

Written By: Arden Falker Sleepwalking toward an old oak door in slippers I forgot that I put on.

Written By: Heather Drain Los Angeles. 1983.  Theo looked at the ebbing streaks of sunset melting into the ocean. The sky's last shades of  blue were slowly being swallowed by deeper and darker colors.

Written By: Arden Falker Canvas wrapped in a vortex of arms. Ripping wounds and clawing skin I bite the bit to feel a signal.

Written By: Hansen Adcock Never eaten cauliflower, it doesn't do anything for me. My grandmother made an excellent thistle soup. Or was it nettles? Never got stung once.