Tag: fiction

Refinished

Fiction by Brian McVety The can of tile refinisher smells like the shame of gasoline. Zoë was nine when her father let her pump gas for the first time. He remained in their rusted station wagon to argue with the radio. The powerful gush forced the nozzle from her hands and drenched her denim cutoffs. […]

The Forever Project

Fiction by BettyJoyce Nash The bike chain slips. Vee dismounts and inspects the rusted metal, noticing her lumpy leg veins. Poor circulation, big deal. Her blood’s run around her body long enough. “Lemme have a look.” Finn, from Island Mowing, leaves his machine and ambles over  in his ridiculous Hawaiian shorts, jumping with birds of […]

Cleaning House

Fiction by Kim Steutermann Rogers Across town, a large hole is being dug to contain your grief, the headline read. Come by at dawn, dump your troubles, start a new day. The first day, Jen offloaded her ex’s favorite coffee mug, the stained one with a big blue “M,” the logo of his college alma […]

Orphans

Fiction by Jamy Bond On clear nights we snuck through the window of the bunk house and made our way to the creek to skip rocks and soak our feet. There was something about the cool air, the sable sky, the moon’s vibrant bloom that made our crime worth its potential punishment. If Mr. Brody […]

Every Which Way, the Wind

Fiction by Pat Foran My Dear Frontal Passage Friend, We’re having trouble hearing each other. Is it windy where you are? Is it raining, Gene Kelly raining, where you are? Is there a fire in the back of your head, burning from the back to the front, perpetually? Is it like falling falling falling without […]

Three Deer Yesterday While Driving

Fiction by Donald Ryan Headlights interrupted the young buck’s breakfast. With his head alert and body frozen, his close-cropped, sprouting points were as clear as a positive afterimage on the first blink. As the road veered, the beams, straight with the car’s speed of light, yielded the trance. He thawed. Another blink. He was gone, […]

Beauty in the Bones

An excerpt from In the Lonely Backwater Fiction by Valerie Nieman The kitchen at the Plantation wasn’t anything like the rest of the house. No displays of artificial flowers or gold-painted Valentine cupids holding up lamps, no bright-colored couches or polished furniture. It was a working place, my grandmother’s office. We had moved back from […]