Excerpts

From Issue 20: "Solo" by Ryan Brod (Flash Nonfiction)

From Issue 20: "Solo" by Ryan Brod (Flash Nonfiction)

I feel my healthy, low-risk lungs burning, wishing I’d avoided the vending machine M&M’s amidst my stressful day teaching masked freshmen, and I am thinking of my body’s vehicular nature (and the shit I put in it as fuel) when I notice three men in motorized carts—wheelchairs—parked across the road from the trail, facing the sunlight, their heads hanging like wilted sunflowers ...

From Issue 20: "Let It Go" by Joanna Manning (Flash Nonfiction)

From Issue 20: "Let It Go" by Joanna Manning (Flash Nonfiction)

 

On one sweltering, late-summer afternoon in Pennsylvania, the kind of day that invites a certain dreamy idleness, my grandfather taught me how to make clouds disappear.

From Issue 18: "Early Work," by Carolyn Williams-Noren

From Issue 18: "Early Work," by Carolyn Williams-Noren

We thought the chestnuts—on the sidewalk of Steele Street—were going to waste. “I wish,” I’d said to Alison. “I wish we could do something with these.” The clacking handfuls.

From Issue 18: "Vamos," by Emily James

From Issue 18: "Vamos," by Emily James

But when the smallest girl reaches into her Cheese Doodles and the plastic bag cracks into a cut then a sliver and then rips in two, the powdered curls falling out into a sad orange pile, she looks at me, lip turning inward, about to give way. I reach for her, but in this moment, she needs him—the man who gave her those lean legs and left dimple and kinky curls and skin the color of autumn leaves.

From Issue 14: "Court of Common Pleas," by Dionne Custer Edwards

From Issue 14: "Court of Common Pleas," by Dionne Custer Edwards

We are all waiting for judgment. For someone to see you missing another day of work. Pleading with the judge to see you for more than just conflicts and thorns. We are plaintiffs and defendants, whispers and screams.

From Issue 16: "After the Ball," by Max King Cap

From Issue 16: "After the Ball," by Max King Cap

When asked which apparatus he would prefer, he answered, “Truck.” His father had been on a truck. He had been a tillerman on the hook-and-ladder. When two fire apparatuses collided during a run, his father became pinned under the wheels of the engine. He spent nearly a year in recuperation. Ever after he carried tire marks across his chest and shoulder. The candidate began his training on Truck 66 in Uptown. 

From Issue 17: "A Complete Game," by Mara Fein

From Issue 17: "A Complete Game," by Mara Fein

My dad eats peanuts, leisurely drops the shells to the ground, and teaches me how to keep score. Different fans score differently, he says. The important thing is the ability to look back and understand what happened.