Fiction

The Dancer Ascends the Stage

Our dance was inspired by a custom where women lay swords at their throats, and men step on them just hard enough to prove the women’s courage.

Jul 19, 2019
The Day Nothing Remarkable Happened

If he had remembered to meet her, it could have changed everything. What is uncertain is whether he would have been spared.

Jul 12, 2019
Before the Crossing

The boy loved seeing the tent from outside, lit up by firelight, glowing brightest where it was wearing thin.

Jun 28, 2019
How to Be a Family

A married couple and their twin sons weather the heartbreaks and savor the joys of family life over decades in this novella.

Jun 14, 2019
The Kings of Norway

They all were going around trying to prove themselves, litigating the case for their own worth: Look at me, look at me, look at me—I matter, don’t I?

Jun 07, 2019
Harmless Are the Harvestmen We Don’t Let In

Who is there? I called when a spell of quiet passed, though I already had my guess, an automated sighting notice having gone out last week.

May 31, 2019
Whatever Doesn’t Kill Me

You’re safe now, said the plates, the walls, the glasses, even the golden chandelier that I hadn’t noticed before.

May 24, 2019
You and Me, Bird

Your near-life experiences have coalesced in this momentary identity. You are a woman speeding along I-10 with a caged green-cheeked conure chirping by her side.

May 17, 2019
Boys into Men, and Men into Monsters, While I Am Home With the Girls

When you disappeared, three nights ago, I told them you were up north, visiting your mother. Why should I tell them different?

May 10, 2019
A Packing List for the End of the World

I decide to put the plant in the ground the next time we stop, to insist that something I’ve loved will survive me.

May 03, 2019
Tumblr vs. Democracy

They tell me that my new job is to chisel a deep and lasting crack into the foundation of American democracy.

Apr 26, 2019
The Encroachment of Waking Life

The man in the fur hat warned me things might be different after we crossed the time barrier—that my presence might confound, even frighten those who’d forgotten me.

Apr 19, 2019
“As soon as you agree to soup.”: Excerpts from Erin McGraw’s ‘Joy’

“We need more soft bedding; everything now is hopelessly stained. We need better antiemetics. We need a miracle, and somebody to say so. It’s not going to be him.”

Apr 12, 2019
Con Suerte He Will Sleep Another Hour

Her mother had never curved a cool hand around Marilinda’s cheek and promised, Mijita, your life will be swollen with love.

Apr 12, 2019
The Cost of Dehaunting

“I don’t believe in ghosts, but you have a reputation for helping troubled properties.”

Tell Me What You Think of Me

I knew how these small moments could accumulate over time, threading back to one another, changing how you behaved in the world.

Mar 29, 2019
How to Move Through the Dark

The day the women left, Clary followed her mother to the water’s edge. She would’ve followed her under, too, if the other daughters hadn’t been there to hold her back.

Mar 22, 2019
If You Don’t Mind the Drowning

There are times you have legs. Mostly, you do not. You smile with teeth grown sharp from gnawing at chains that refuse to release.

Mar 15, 2019
Cactus City

Floating on her back, she imagines what’ll happen if she starts bleeding right then and there.

Mar 08, 2019
Sky Held Up by a Thousand Minarets

On this train ride back to his beginnings, Shettima’s mind overtook the train to another river in his memory, a river long and meandering as his days.

Mar 01, 2019