Reckon Review

Category: Fiction

  • COLDEST DAY OF THE YEAR | Fiction by Mario Aliberto III

    Warren and Leigh waited for their father beneath coronas of streetlights, giant snowflakes flurrying like locusts swarming the neighborhood, their fingers icicles within their mittens, when that car passed again, headlights first, a blue sedan with chains wrapped so tightly around its tires they didn’t so much as jingle, pausing in front of their house…

  • A PACT | Fiction by Sacha Bissonnette

    Reggie,  Do you remember the pact we made?  It was like 7 or 8 in the morning and I knew you hadn’t slept much cause neither had I, and you had been ranting again about Josie’s new guy which you always did when you had too many shots and you got all quiet and asked…

  • HOUSE QUILTING | Fiction by Julia Strayer

    Locals whisper it’s graffiti, but it’s more like appliqué quilting, except I do it on our white farmhouse so everyone can see. A quilt is a gift of love, pieces of fabric that embody a person’s life, stitched together to carry memory. I spent winter months in the cold barn jigsawing plywood shapes, sanding, painting,…

  • LIVE LONG AND PROSPER | Fiction by William Cass

    The house seemed very empty after my wife left.  Not many square feet to fill, just a little bungalow in an old neighborhood near Santa Cruz’s boat harbor.  Close enough to the beach, though, to hear the waves tumbling at night.  Inherited from a bachelor great-uncle…otherwise, I never could have afforded it.  Timing was perfect:…

  • LIFE CYCLE OF A DOMESTIC FIREFLY | Fiction by Chelsea Stickle

    “There used to be more fireflies when I was a little girl,” Mom tells me. “I used to catch them, just like you.” At this she boops my nose. My repurposed Peter Pan peanut butter jar winks neon yellow-green from the fireflies I caught before dinner. When I was really little, Mom used to come…

  • THIS IS MY FLOOR | Fiction by Curtis C. Morgan

    In February of 1974, my wife and I bought a hundred-year-old farmhouse in northern Pennsylvania for $22,900. Working with my hands was not something I was accustomed to doing. By the time we left, four years later, I had built almost everything in it. The house sat on Ranch Road, on Hanlon Hill, in the…

  • COMMUNION | Fiction by Barrett Bowlin

    It is the winter of 1989, and you are ten years old, due soon at Ozarks Elementary for first bell, so your father wakes you like he normally does: by lifting you from your bed and placing you in the blue cloth La-Z-Boy, the one that perches in front of the family’s cabinet TV. For…

  • AS IT SHATTERS | Fiction by Keith Woodruff

    When the trophy hits the quarry rocks far below, she imagines the golfer’s tiny gold head flying, the toothpick-thin golf club spinning away, broken off hands still gripping the shaft. She wishes there were some magical voodoo correspondence between his body and all these shatterings. That while sitting around the conference table with the entourage…

  • WHAT WE LOST IN THE FIRE | Fiction by Lori Sambol Brody

    Five days into the Sunset Fire evacuation, Pete and I sit on the deck of our crooked little house on the hillside drinking Tecate and eating packaged meals from World Central Kitchen. In the background, the generator chugs a steady refrain because the electricity was turned off even before the evacuation order. Ash clings to…

  • THE EXACT MOMENT I STOPPED TRUSTING GROWNUPS | Fiction by Peter Robbins

    Grampa caught a perch with his bamboo pole, but it swallowed the hook too deep and he couldn’t twist it out. He reached into his pants for his pocketknife so he could cut open the belly, which Grampa said was the only thing a man could do in a situation like this, and he felt…