Reckon Review

Author: reckonreview

  • What’s Left

    Fiction by Laura Leigh Morris A woman in a mask cups the baby’s butt, grips her neck. She holds the squirming purple body above the sterile drape, says, “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.” She says the baby’s lungs are full of fluid, that they need to keep an eye on her. I watch, helpless, as they…

  • Our Roots and Where They Grow

    A Review of Sara Johnson Allen’s Down Here We Come Up by Ryleigh Wann How do you create healthy boundaries when that boundary involves blood? What about when you feel so ingrained in a place that your roots can’t help but rot with it? How do you pull yourself out of a syrupy summer in…

  • Ladies First

    Creative Nonfiction by Leighton Schreyer He. Tall. Mid-forties or so. Dressed in a slick navy suit, pink dress shirt, floral tie. Striped socks—Burberry or Balenciaga or Prada, something fancy—revealing themselves with each pump of the pedal. Briefcase strapped in the bike basket in lieu of the child he (almost certainly) doesn’t have. Can’t have, looking…

  • Yarns: On Making Perfectionism Work for You

    By Meagan Lucas I hate it when editors publish themselves—especially in anthologies, but that’s another column—and I vowed when I started this mag that I wasn’t going to do that. But then I had an idea for this essay, and I thought a craft column isn’t as self-indulgent as publishing my own fiction, right? Plus,…

  • There is a Season

    Fiction by Emily Addis All of my children turned into rocks. Just plain rocks. You’d hardly notice them. I mean, you wouldn’t notice them; I would, because I’m their mother. Lucky for them, too, because if anyone else had found them they’d still be outside right now, getting run over by cars and pissed on…

  • Buried Nitrogen – Dead Wood Falling: A Snow Moon Noir

    By Sandra K. Barnidge Our Leyland cypress died. All at once, it seemed, almost overnight. One week, the evergreen branches were soft, supple, and verdant — it had been our outdoor Christmas tree, and we’d decorated it with shiny colored balls and a pinecone topper. But last summer’s drought had weakened it, and a fungus…

  • Dear Lazarus

    Fiction By John Woods I find my dad in the woods. He stares out at an ancient lake and wanders along the stone shore in his bathrobe, naked underneath, his manhood frozen to a nub. We’ve searched for 36 hours. The hunting party consists of me and his friends equipped with flashlights and cellphones, others…

  • The Pie Was a Final Draft: Homecoming

    By Michaella Thornton Last month, at age 45, I attended my first Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) conference in my hometown of Kansas City, Missouri, and it was glorious. I sang karaoke two nights in a row with writers I love and admire (Salt-n-Pepa’s “None of Your Business” and Wilco’s “Heavy Metal Drummer”…

  • Ask Your Mom

    Fiction by Kristi Ferguson Leah stepped through the automatic doors and breathed in the cool air with a sigh of relief. She gave a self-conscious smile to the teenage boy who muttered “Welcome to Walmart,” as he handed over a shopping cart. Sweat dripped down her neck and frazzled hair escaped a makeshift bun. She…

  • In Search of Magic

    By Jamie Etheridge I’m writing late into the afternoon when I see them. A fluffle of eastern cottontails scampering across the road. They move like raindrops on water. Plop. Bound. Leap. A wiffle of unreality. Midway, the mother rabbits pause. They rear up on hind legs. Freeze frame, except for twitching noses and ears alert.…