Slash Magazine Contributor

Written By: Kieu Anh Nguyen center cuts in perfect squares / all rib bones removed / I rub some coarse salt to dehydrate the skin / before the dry rub/ this old darkened flesh

Written By: Sean Grant I am watching from my car.  The night presses its face against my view, prying its way into my eyes.

Written By: Ashley Sgro The wolves are after me. I can hear them through the charcoal night. No wind moves through leafy bushes. The air is still. The sky at 3 A.M. is quiet. It is them.

Written By: Faria Basher It was at the end of my seventh week at Covena that they first fed on me, the act occurring in the buried, forgotten hours of that Friday night, long after the janitor left and the last luminous monitor had been shut off.

Written By: Rashan Speller The pigeons would not consume him. That was the first thing Detective Darius Kane noticed. Not the missing head or the blood.

Written By: Robin S. Bloom My quiet reverie in the park is interrupted by voices upon voices — by clownish music blaring from an ice cream truck, and the barking of a hot dog vendor pitching his wares.