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Fiction, Volume IXPantagruel and the One Eyed Goon
Whispers, Emily Bryn Once upon a time, there was a great and beautiful giant named Pantagruel. He was cloaked in silver and fish scales. His robes were made of the skin…
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Fiction, Volume IXMonsters Under Your Bed
Demonology, Jack Hoye Isabel always had trouble sleeping, ever since Theodore could remember. She never made it through the night without a nightmare plaguing her unconscious, resulting in her screaming for…
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FictionDance on the Ashes of Your Enemy
Dorothy, Ciera Land A few hours before Ortega taught me how to dig a grave, he was visited by El Corte — the Cut One — but my friend didn’t warn…
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Fiction, Volume IXOh No, It’s Me, Your Resident Advisor, and I’m Already Asking How You’re Feeling
An Ode to Breakfast, Emma Lassiter We pass each other in our reshall and I ask, immediately, how you’re feeling. You stare, dazed, thinking 3:48 am is the wrong time for…
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Fiction, Volume IXJust Listening
This Ain’t Belle’s Rose, Adriana Barker Granstan didn’t much like driving on the Trace. Says they’re too many young bucks looking for love on that stretch. After a drink Granstan and…
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Fiction, Volume IXEscape Attempt
Behaviorism, Arjun Saatia Zara Envada wasn’t prone to panic or nervousness. Or any kind of fear at all, actually. She didn’t see much point to it. But one who was…
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Fiction, Volume IXStones on a Hill
Pink Creek, Louise Rossiter [TW: Depictions of death and suicide] Wren August 4, 1996 I know most people say life is too short, but I think…
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Fiction, Volume IXBefore You Crash
Gas Station, Oscar Zenteno “Please choose your payment type,” said the voice from the self-checkout machine. The letters blinked at Fatima. The store, alive with noise a few moments before,…
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Fiction, Volume IXThe Crocodile Hunter: Reborn
Catacombes de Paris, Elle Griffiths “It was the summer of 2016,” Alex said, stalwart against the bonfire light. “No one fucking listened to me. I told ’em it was all…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIEucalyptus
Growth, Liatris Hethcoat Wednesday mornings are steam and oil, cigarette smoke and other unpleasant smells, which is to say that Wednesdays are really no different from Tuesdays or Thursdays or…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIThe Gate
2, Julia Broeker I ran over my boyfriend’s parents’ Maltipoo with my Ford 250. It wasn’t intentional. I’m not a psycho-animal-murderer or anything. I had just punched in the four-digit…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIFor Dogs Have Encompassed Me
Livelihood, Liza Ashley She sniffs his gun because she knows what gunpowder smells like. She likes the smell. Daddy and me used to take her down to the holler when…
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Fiction, Volume VIIISticky Air
Hands, Katherine Rogers There was a spider climbing the wall above my bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was one of those nasty Florida spiders that’s so…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIAn Alien Abroad
Cellular Hierarchies, Effie Jia Dear Mom, My year abroad is off to a good start. It’s a bit chilly, but I’m told that’s normal for this time of year. People…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIMaple Leaf
Junglescape, Meagan Dwyer I was 5 years old when I learned how to pronounce my mother’s name. I’d started to learn enough letter sounds in kindergarten to string a few…
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Fiction, Volume VIIIKeeping Up Appearances
Light and Dark, Grace Long Harold Orwin was well respected in the anarcho-punk community. And understandably so. He wore black denim jackets with anti-government patches, beaten boots with worn cotton laces,…
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Fiction, Volume VIIICream Cheese Weight
facetime, Saber Paustian Ever since Cecilia Harrison’s father told her that no one ate cinnamon raisin bagels anymore, she had made it her personal mission to order only cinnamon raisin…