Fiction

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: 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: 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.

Written By: Teege Braune I awoke with a runny nose and congested sinuses, the kind of throbbing, itchy discomfort that seems to extend from one’s face like a keratinized outgrowth and puts in one’s mind the apt nomenclature “rhinovirus.”

Written By: Adara Schwartz Each night, my husband sleeps on his back with his hands crossed over his chest, as though he is in a coffin.

Written By: Martin Taulbut It was almost nine when Linda stepped off the bus at Holyrood. Shivering, she buttoned up her blue serge jacket and strode to the studded wooden gates.