STORY OF THE WEEK

Xingu

Mrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though it were dangerous to meet alone. She founded an association composed of herself and several other indomitable huntresses of erudition.

POEM OF THE WEEK

Rise

When he asks me if I’m ready, I don’t even know enough to know what he means but I know enough not to say so. We lie on his unmade bed, credits rolling on the movie we’d watched. His choice.

FINAL WEEK TO ENTER

Entry deadline: Friday, July 31, at midnight PDT.

We’re looking for short stories, essays, memoirs, photography, graphic stories, and excerpts from long fiction and nonfiction.

Please see the Guidelines.

FICTION

The Manzanos

When I was seven I played that I was the murderer and would be safe when I reached the mountains. They loomed, and I ran through the tall grass and into the sun, fear and guilt clogging my heart.

STORY CONTEST WINNERS

WINTER CONTEST WINNERS

FICTION

STORY CONTEST WINNERS

Nick Will Be Successful Influential & Will Marry the Pretty Girl and He Didn’t Even Go to Yale

The graffiti suggests the most essential story of New Haven. Who put it there?

WINTER CONTEST WINNERS

After the Fire, the Sound of a Low Whisper

She had to admit the possibility that she may have been losing her mind. There was something about walking in the hallucinatory heat that let her be more honest now than she had ever been before.

FICTION

Übermensch

The rumor was true—Ayn Rand would be our next visiting writer. Some of the masters were sore enough about this to let the story of their failed protest sift down to steerage. The headmaster invited Ayn Rand—so the story went—only because he was about to start a drive for scholarship funds.

FICTION

FICTION

That Summer, with Horses

My father fancied himself a trainer of racehorses. He was almost entirely honest, and that put him at an awful disadvantage in a sport where low cunning is a virtue.

FICTION

The Beginnings of a Storm

One night, early in their marriage, Lisa went outside to watch the sky just before a hard rain. “Come back inside,” James said. “It’s dangerous out there.”

FICTION

Rise the Euphrates

The novel did not come easily (they never do), and for much of my twenties I did everything possible to forget the tale that haunted me.

FICTION

NONFICTION

NONFICTION

FICTION

Thistles

As she waited for the cop to come down the line and pepper spray her, Tessa Morrison closed her eyes and recalled summer days she and her father drove the fencerows, spraying thistles.

NONFICTION

Decoy Project

Later, I learned the details of the atom bombings. I learned the horror of many thousands dead, of survivors walking with skin stripped, holding their eyeballs in their hands.

NONFICTION

Real People

Time passes so quickly, like a time-lapse film. A couple buys the house across the street; gradually, they love it and tend to its every detail.

POETRY

POETRY

POETRY

POETRY

Americanathon

Waiting for a cure, waiting for the closeout sale, the black sail, a new tarboosh and a tiny red car, a new improved and safer war.

POETRY

Bag

It’s made from a doe’s stomach and holds grizzly teeth and claw, stones from Tibet and the moon the garden and the beach where the baby’s ashes are buried.

POETRY

Lesson for Mason

That is a building. That is a tree. That is a yellow-colored car. That is a curb. It keeps you from driving too far. It says “stop!” to keep you safe.

POETRY

POETRY

POETRY

POETRY

Nights Like This

The night is still young, but already the neighbors are playing God knows what music, and I wonder if the bugs that sing think the same thoughts I do.

POETRY

Tempus

Any moment now the clock is invented. Life becomes a countdown and anything you love can be held against you.

POETRY

Seroconversion

two boys are in bed on a Tuesday afternoon & neither knows the other’s name for they just met this morning on their phones & were 1.2 miles from each other.

POETRY

iPOEMS

iPOEMS

POETRY

Trojan

A finger’s worth of dark from daybreak, he steps into his mother’s red dress. A flame caught in a mirror the width of a coffin. Glint of steel in the back of his throat.

iPOEMS

Quasar

How did the light take forty years to work its way, through the dancers, across that crowded room.

iPOEMS

Relatives of the Dead

The dead man’s suit coat
 is a good fit through the shoulders. The last thing he touched
 is the first thing I touch.

IPOEMS

CLASSICS

CLASSICS

IPOEMS

Photo Found on a Dead Man’s Phone

A field. No clouds. Tall grasses bend toward the foreground. In the distance, three pheasants break above the brush, against the wind.

CLASSICS

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

our eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me.

CLASSICS

September 2001, New York City

There is something in me maybe someday to be written; now it is folded, and folded, and folded, like a note in school.

CARTOONS

CARTOONS

CARTOONS

CARTOONS

Cartoon Art Volume 2015-07

More laughs from Lydia Conklin, J. C. Duffy, Farley Katz, Mary Lawton, and Glen Le Lievre.

CARTOONS

Cartoon Art Volume 2015-06

Great new humor from Mary Lawton, Glen Le Lievre, Rina Piccolo, Tom Toro, and P. C. Vey.

CARTOONS

Cartoon Art Volume 2015-05

Hilarious toons from Charlie Hankin, Farley Katz, Ken Krimstein, P. C. Vey, and Wen Winslow.