Category: Stories
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Before And After Your Cat Died
Casey Hannan
Your cat sits on the stairs behind an old baby gate. He’s very sick, though you swear he won’t bite. It’s more for the other cats. They’d get at him. “They’re not so nice,” you say, explaining to me the vampirism of felines, that infected blood is infected blood no matter how it’s drawn. Your…
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Moss
Cortney McLellan
When Otis died, the rain started falling. At first so lightly my windshield wipers squeaked even at low speed. But then the drops fattened and multiplied, and people took to hiding beneath umbrellas. I merged with gray, bought a thick slicker, and cursed my man for dying. I stopped going out. The night-and-day ting-ting-ting on…
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Righteous
Nick Ripatrazone
I borrowed my brother’s clothes for cowboy night at the Red Willow Tavern. He had a nice red and white checkered shirt with triangle-shaped flaps and pearl clips and buttons. He gave me worn Lee jeans he claimed were purchased in 1984 in Long Mott, Texas. They were 33 by 33 and I had just…
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Why I Sing Such Good Songs, Coyote
Gary Percesepe
We got our jobs by lies and defended our honor by night on the Hill in Saint Louis. Jimmy was thirty and I was forty and we’d met in the state pen. The foundry was hot and shitty but the pay was good and Annette at the corner bar cashed your paycheck no questions asked.…
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Monday — Sunday
Colin Winnette
Everything was normal on Monday. Same for Tuesday. Wednesday came and went. Thursday was just fine too. Friday happened, and all of the sudden it was Saturday. On Sundays, we eat a big breakfast of eggs and bacon and sausage and pancakes and oatmeal and jellies and coffee and juice and hash browns and onions…
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Where the ocean ends
Doug Bond
On the way to the colonoscopy he says, “They’re not going to find anything I can’t outrun before I’m dead of old age anyway.” He has started the counting in earnest: My last car, my last driver’s license photo, my last census, the last probe up my ass. He could outlive all of it. Or…
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Fugue For Miners Dead
Marcelina Vizcarra
“Look at the dead,” my dad said from his nest on the sofa. The bodies lay in envelopes of white cloth, some half-length, under the awning of a makeshift morgue. Their faces informed the sheets with almost-recognizable profiles. He brandished the photo before us. Mom shifted in her chair. The longer he held it, the…
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Beachfront
Timmy Waldron
We arrive, one at a time, at our Grand-Pop’s shore house. We claim rooms like it’s a free for all. Mom already has one of the master bedrooms and Dad is nowhere to be found. We don’t remember the last time we’ve all been under the same roof. Maybe it was a holiday, we think…
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The Fascinator
Savannah Schroll Guz
It was just after noon when a tall man in a dark suit rapped on Buella Dodd’s newly white washed screen door. She’d seen him coming up Standish Hill Road, making his way over the twisted and rocky path running between the trees, where the smell of mossy earth and dead leaves was strongest. He…
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They Do This Kind of Thing
Daniel W. Davis
I thought I would have to go into the coop to find Hunter, but he was actually out behind the building. I heard his snarling first, and then the strangled cry of one of the chickens, cut off suddenly amidst a growling outburst that made my hands tighten on the rifle. I glanced over my…
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One Out Of Two
Len Kuntz
When my wife wakes, her hair a mass of tangles and her breath smelling like lighter fluid, she tells me I should consider cutting and pasting. In the last many months she’s been speaking riddles, many of them barbed. She’s been stealing people’s mail and piling it up in her underwear drawer. Last week she…
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Serial
Bonnie ZoBell
He beats the girl, stabs her 22 times, rapes her, then uses his fingertips to push her orbital sockets into the back of her head before killing her. At trial, he laughs about whether or not there are others. The reenactment posed in front of us by some under-employed actor makes him out to be…