Reckon Review

Tag: fiction

  • I DON’T THINK I’VE TOLD YOU ANYTHING THAT ISN’T TRUE | Fiction by Siobhan Ring

    I am in the back of Dollar General. I need an ice cube tray, a mop, and a bucket. I need markers in primary colors. I am in the kitchen section considering a spatula when, just to my right, in front of the bins of aluminum foil and plastic wrap, a wolf sits on his…

  • DETASSELING | Fiction by Walker Minot

    The three boys would remember riding in the John Deere carrier as the sun rose, cruising amidst motor noise through fields of green, black, and gold, to detassel eight-foot stalks of corn. They would remember the daily aube—the first light to emerge on the horizon, pinpricks gathering into fractions of a circle—faint, then big and…

  • SLOT MACHINE GODS | Fiction by Sarp Sozdinler

    Nana says she has forgotten how to live. She says this plainly and calmly, as if stating a fact. She’s peeling an orange with her stained butter knife, her eyes on some beauty contestants mutely catwalking on the corner TV. “The weather is nice today,” I say, but Nana turns to look at me like…

  • SHIMMERING STRAPPY SANDALS AND YELLOW DRESSES | Fiction by Arva Bhavnagarwala

    Mohammed Ali Road crawls with traffic, but Maps on your phone commands the way, and the driver follows it. Now, here you are. You turn your head, and a little girl, trailing her mother, catches your attention. You grip your cane. It isn’t every day that you use this route. Nakhuda Street, the sign reads.…

  • 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…