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Story Archives

| By Jim Shepard & Travis Kurowski

[ December 5, 2014 ]

I Stumble Into Everything – An Interview with Jim Shepard

Jim Shepard’s was the first story I ever read in a literary magazine; it was “Climb Aboard the Mighty Flea,” in a 2002 issue of The Paris Review. I found it in college while wandering around in the library between classes. The story is about a group of lunatic German Messerschmitt 163 test pilots during WWII. It begins: I am Oberleutnant …

, | By Kathy Drasher

[ December 5, 2014 ]

, | By Andrew Gottlieb

[ December 2, 2014 ]

Monsters

  When I was seven, I built plastic models, scaled military replicas made by Revel, Taiko, and other Japanese or American or German brands with characters, English words, and other languages and alphabets sprinkled on the boxes like confetti. This confetti surrounded painted depictions of the vehicle in action. I could sit, building, for hours. …

, | By Carol Clark Williams

[ November 28, 2014 ]

Heritage

There is no word for “freedom” in biology; in family idiom, no concept of the Self. Cruel monsters of my childhood still surface, lurking too close in the genetic pool. How can I stand apart? When will I be my own? In hostile mirrors I reflect my sister’s face and carry out the day’s routine …

, | By Carol Clark Williams

[ November 27, 2014 ]

Of Two Evils

  No longer are my dreams long halls for monsters: people there these nights are faceless and benign, ready to waltz with me when threads of music knit the raveled sleeve of care. My nightmare enemies have moldered to the dust beneath my bed. In shadowed closets, they hung up their grotesqueries and departed, closing …

, | By Carol Clark Williams

[ November 26, 2014 ]

Defenses Down

  What if they are the true perceptions of your life, those thoughts which come at two in the morning, when shadows twist and shift like lunatics and darkness presses its cold fingertips hard against your straining eyes? What if the dull rage in the dregs of booze glazing the last ice cubes, at the …

, | By Carol Clark Williams

[ November 25, 2014 ]

Revenant

  They thought that we would go like sheep bemused and walking in our sleep, unmindful cattle herded deep down into the nightmare: the troll behind the closet door, the serpent in the dresser drawer— we walked the charcoal corridor, inhaled the fetid air. And still we spin our knotted thread along the bench, beneath …

, | By Carol Clark Williams

[ November 24, 2014 ]

Mother’s Night

  Night in the house of my childhood invaded more than corners: it crept into the soul, a golem breeding nightmares. Awakened by my screams, mother came to my bedside offering comfort. She sat there, a dark shadow, her glinting eyes in deeper pools of darkness. And I agreed that I was comforted, oh quickly …

, | By Joe Fassler

[ November 17, 2014 ]

The Hand That Feeds

My boys won’t eat. The youngest doesn’t swallow as much as smear and fling. As though he thinks food’s taken through the skin. I blend his baby glop, peas and carrots and little rags of meat pureed together by the hurtling blade, and when I bring it to him strapped in his high throne he …

, | By Dustin Lincoln Wells & Beth Mussay

[ November 10, 2014 ]

I Never Met My Brother

I have a brother. I never met him. His name is Mark. He’s the same age as I am. Mark only lived thirty miles away from me the entire time we were growing up. I was in Lebanon, Pennsylvania and he lived near Harrisburg, the state capital. Our father, Billy Lee Wells, already had a …