Tag: Summer 2020

| By Michael Nye

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

Summer 2020

Photo by Xena Coleman During the publication of this issue, the world is in the middle of its worst health crisis since 1918 and its worst economic crisis since 1933. In America, protests against institutional racism and police brutality have swept across the entire country, often to be met by unaccountable state-sanctioned violence, and a …

| By Karin Cecile Davidson

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

Sweet Iowa

The first time Howdy Miller saw Morgan Loving she was walking across the barroom, her legs like scissors cutting up the room, slicing through the stares that followed her. She had the kind of walk that would take her somewhere. Howdy didn’t wonder where she’d been, just where she was going, as if the future …

| By Emily Mirengoff

[ Issue Issue #8 ]


When we moved to the United States, my big brother Itan worried that the kids at school would make fun of my hand. I wasn’t worried; I knew for certain that they would, just as they had back in Israel. Even the insults were the same: “Why do you have a claw? Are you an …

| By Ellen Rhudy

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

The Body Forgets Herself

Lindy is running. Lindy is the only girl running. If she looked at the stands she would see the fathers waiting for their boys to return to the track. But she isn’t looking to the stands, she is looking ahead and only ahead. Wind pulsing in her hair, stomach knotted, a furious energy coiling in …

| By Chad Simpson

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

Notes Toward a Story Called Streetlight Superman

A crumbling Illinois town in the early aughts. Almost two hundred freight trains pass through it each day, horns blaring aharmoniously. The town’s citizens worship equally at the plentiful taverns and churches, praying over beers and bibles for their factories and their children’s futures.   A group of neighbor boys in their early teens: Aaron, …

| By Cara Blue Adams

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

The Birdcage

When I was young—nineteen, twenty—and home for an indeterminate stretch, feeling aimless and lost, I met Renee, who carried a parasol to protect her pale skin and who, she told me, was looking for a hat like the ones the Vietnamese wore. Renee was a delicate girl, frail, red-haired, with a perpetual look of dissatisfaction …

| By Brian Leung

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

The Fish is Gone. But the Cake is Here.

The old dude calls from across the covered patio. “It’s the Alps. You are here for trout!” His Slovene accent dominates a cool breeze. He’s unshaven, but smiling and bright-eyed behind glasses with thick black frames, entirely clad in even blacker leather motorcycle garb, a helmet in the seat across from him as if it’s …

| By Ben Hinshaw

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

The Charges

My brief friendship with Jacob Lovelong owed its existence to a lack of better offers. Still, for a while there, we were mates. I never really knew what he thought of me, or at least was never sure he thought much. But I like to believe he needed me back then just as much as …

| By Venita Blackburn

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

Ground Fighting

Esperanza and some of my old softball team were at the taco shack, so I gave them a head nod. They did the same. The fries and tacos are made to order, so it takes for-goddamn-ever. Except for the one time Esperanza came to visit me in the hospital, we weren’t ever really friends. Poly …

| By R.A. Wyeth

[ Issue Issue #8 ]

Like a Broken Statue Among His Marbles

Werner had feared his life wouldn’t turn out to be like literature. He believed he had lived an unremarkable life, and feared, as he entered adulthood, that he was destined for the routine and mundane, the very kind of ordinary that, try as one might, couldn’t be made fantastic by the written word. But when …