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Magical Thinking by Hope Nolan
I have headphones on while I stand at the bus stop. No music, just static loud enough to keep me from thinking. A man tries to talk to me as we wait. I ignore him, but my impulse to lie has me digging my key into my wrist. If I tell the man I can’t…
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A Good Deed at the Hanging Tree by Kris Violet
August 1747, Shepherd’s Bush outside London, midday I can’t see its curdled waters, but the smell of the Thames coats my nostrils and the back of my throat. Who would have thought it could be worse after you’re dead? London is a crowded, sprawling pit where a man can find anything he needs on every…
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Dear Robert by Gabriella Giambanco
Dear Robert, Do you remember how we first met? I think of it more often than I should. The air was cold that day, yet I felt inexplicably warm, almost as if some part of me already knew you. You said something ordinary; I can’t even recall the words. What I remember is the way…
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That Woman by Rhonda Rosenheck
(A Sestina) The bed, visible through the legs of adults and a child circledround, looks crisp and taut, as if there is no womanbeneath its sheets sending to a stanchion monitor signalsthat measure life. Breathing? Check. BP? Eh. Heartbeat? Slow.Sitting across the room, on vigil at another bed, I can seeonly the child’s silky brown…
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In the Aftermath by Phil M. Robinson
Another synthetic sunrise. A plastic dawn. How long has it been now? It’s amazing what you can forget when you’ve spent so long chained to a bed, with webs of bloody tubes to tie you down. Each time I breathe, I feel the drain in my chest as it struggles and strains to filter the…
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The Lizard of Lamont Goods by Noah Gibson
LAMONT GOODS. Food you love. Food for your family. The slogan had been etched on banners and billboards all around town for years. Lamont Goods was your basic, run of the mill grocery store. The prices were fair. The products were good. The employees ranged from charming, professional adults to teens that didn’t give a…
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Body/Fear by Lorhenz Lacsa
The cold cradled the skin of my ribs as I sat there. The precision in the airis surgical—hair strands felt,every inch wet from sweat.How was I humanwhen all I felt was industrial?How is it a heart when it’s a whirring gear that drags,and drags, and drags?My father’s rusts never leftmy blood; I wish I couldregulate…
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The Watchers by Melissa Jornd
We watch you, sneaking through the alleys. You blend into the shadows with a combination of charms and carefulness. The secrets aren’t meant for you. Your desire and curiosity woke us from our semi-slumber before you came. We watched you hone your skills, pursuing General Knowledge, then Advanced Magic & Rhetoric, then Masters of Sorcery.…