FICTION
This is Not a Ghost Story

Once upon a time, in the kindergarten I was to attend, a girl who loved to draw died. I would learn of her after my […]

irenekim
FICTION: October

It was Sunday, but even so, Darryl got up at 6 a.m. to walk to the office by the Brooklyn bridge. After shutting off his […]

soniaruiz
Caves

The Neanderthal brain is 1.3 times that of Cro-Magnon man. And yet, there are commercials like this one: “So easy, a caveman could do it.” […]

keyicui
Family-less Heirlooms

He had never given up being ashamed of his family name, which was common and dull, a blunt single syllable at the end of his […]

laurengatta
He Walks in His Sleep Into Your Life

  If the piano player were better, my mind might wander in his direction, wondering where he lives and who he likes and all that, […]

Irene Kim
Sunday

Mom sings with the rest of them, louder and prouder than she has ever been with me. The distance between our shoulders may as well have been cavernous. They all sing, unabashed, and I can’t match the depth of their feeling. I just stand and fruitlessly observe them all. Why don’t I get it? I remember why I hate being here.

Intoxication

I don’t feel CorpusTech trying to go through and intoxicate me. I feel the whisper of clothes as the sweaty Buzzies and partiers push around me. I hear the pulse of the music. I see laser points like stars on the ceiling and streaks of cars flying down Third Avenue. And for once, I can stand the sound of my own thoughts.

Playground Lessons

It’s dark in the movie theater and Martin’s throat is tight because of some dumb chick flick. The little boy just tumbled over on the […]

Catherine Yang
Bucks

The buck had only one antler, and we both expected imbalance to be the thing that drowned him. He had entered the river gracefully, like […]

dangorodezky
The Swimming Pool

He was drowning; airless, breathless, limitless. The bubbles of carbon dioxide floated up, up and away from his face, expanding, then contracting, then bursting. I […]

elinorhills
The Last Snow

He is so old that you can see Heaven in his eyes. The fat doctor calls it cataracts, but the psychic at the bus stop […]

catherinebui