Category: VOLUME IV

Still Air, Shareefah Pereira     It was almost 2:00 a.m., the latest I’d stayed up in years, when I pinched the bridge of my nose and pushed the heels of my hands into my crinkled eyes. I knew I couldn’t yet. It’d been poetry for hours, but I knew I couldn’t. My heart pushed…

Interlocked, Roma Rarikh     Vivienne warns that the red is too dry. You cannot stomach this, she says. He says, that’s a risk I’ll take. The restaurant is small, pleasant even. The velvet curtains draping the slightly cracked window shield them from the setting sun, but not from the breeze. She welcomes the warm…

Popcorn, Karlen Lambert   I   (White Sands)     I remember the motorcycle gang At White Sands— They pawed the dust Searching for something they couldn’t yet speak of In the data fields of Western Texas   They traced a scent in their mirrors And in the chrome of their tailpipes —A long ride into…

Still Life in Blue and Yellow, Haley Cormier     The Sonoran desert is beyond reason. More than anything else, it is a scene stolen from the apocalypse: tan, craggy rock blooming with poisonous scrub; red dirt that is discernable from rock only in color; laugh lines of wire running parallel to whip scars of asphalt.…

Golgi, Soren Carlson-Donohue [Trigger Warning: depictions of violence and gore] Trout 1 About 1,300 Words Copyright 2014 James A. Trout. 5800 West Friendly Ave. Greensboro NC, 27410 [email protected] Secret Meeting Notes by James A. Trout Meeting Notes from the Guilford College Secret Council meeting. Date: [REDACTED] Chairperson: Allison Crosby III, Director of the Ancient Deities.…

Ferguson, Teresa Bedzigui     Where I am is a place Where lemon water tributaries Empty into ethylamine oceans. I bought a new scarf today (it is below zero, where I am) and I tied it tight around my bedpost and ankles. The Andes are at my left, los Ojos del Salado seething at me,…

Chalkboard, Brendan Hunt [Trigger Warning: brief depictions of animal abuse] I am sitting outside of my middle school, clutching my phone in my hand. I am feverish. I clutch my chest tightly, breathe deeply, and a roll of mucus runs down onto my lips. I sniff it back it up. I dial my mom’s number. “Hey,…

Wave, Selena Kim   1 He fed us silver in the attic again.   All afternoon our blonde stomachs dreamt of rain.   Grandpa said we’d left the door open.   First the dog ran in, and then water filled the house.   We stayed in the attic, vomiting silver.   2 Eating Silver in…

Volatile, Anna Koeferl [Trigger Warning: Depictions of homophobia] Mesquite Smoke  The Zozobra’s limbs are listless, his empty head staring out above the mass of people. Lorena pulls Christine through the crowd away from the smell of the mesquite pyre. Wait, I want to see it, Christine protests. Lorena’s grip tightens but Christine slips away. Lorena…

In Orbit, Marilyn Smith     I. This is the good part of the story. Every July we drove to the shore in our creaky white minivan to visit my great Uncle Lee. If there were a sharp turn, the whole van would feel like it was about to tip over like a red flyer wagon.…

Limitations, Grace Tobin   Shortly after my dad shot and killed himself I visited my mom at the Town Tavern. She looked like a vampire, drained, rejecting life-giving blood from its only son.   On a barstool next to her, I stared through bottled spirits at her haunting gray reflection befogging the silver and black-spotted…

A New World of Light, Jacob Fisher     Transhumanism the belief or theory that the human race can evolve beyond its current physical and mental limitations, especially by means of science and technology   1)     Cryonics I wore my best dress for God because God knew what I’d done with the body beneath it. I…

The Sound of Silence (Austria), Taylor Hedge       Kneeling, I look up at Christ strung up on wires slowly swinging over the head of the priest the center of attention, it’s almost garish.   The weight of His hips stretching the skin more tightly over His sharpened ribs. Pulling Him down. His back…

Hand, Kaitlyn Fitzgerald     “I don’t like Bach,” I complained, lowering my bow. I was fourteen and feeling contrary. My teacher Jeannie, seated at the piano, turned slowly to look at me over the top of her glasses. She drew her face into a look of comic horror. “No student of mine has ever…

Lettuce Hug, Christina Guzman [Trigger Warning: depictions of alcohol consumption] Ivy turned the living room lamp off and back on again for the eleventh time when Hal finally looked up from his book. “Should I read somewhere else?” he said. The worst part was that he meant it. Ivy knew Hal would gladly get up and…