Abelard Dies by Troy James Weaver Each moment of finding is a getting lost. —Clarice Lispector I. The fog is thick over the dockyards, seagulls bursting over me in unseen flurries. Smells of fish and barnacles and salt, putrid and silvery—the alcohol that ran thick in his blood. The sailors and dockworkers are moving in and out of their positions, getting ready for what the day will bring them much in quantity and repetition, the sun not yet there, just […]
Sunday Stories: “Sympathy”
Sympathy by Ashton Politanoff Stewart was currently ranked 52 in the world, his highest ranking yet. At twenty-nine, this was his year. Everyone knew that when tennis players turned thirty, it was all downhill, unless you were Agassi. It happened on the practice court. He tossed the yellow ball up in the air, fuzzy from the heat, and whacked it. Immediately, he felt the shooting pain. He tried to shake it out, dropping the racquet on the baseline and dangling […]
Sunday Stories: “Fat Piglet”
Fat Piglet by Marcy Dermansky A few years ago, when I was still a teenager, I was on a reality TV show. I did not enjoy it. I did not like having my life on camera. It made me crazy nervous. I found that I wanted to eat all the time. The camera was always there when I didn’t want it. I would find myself on national TV eating chocolate eclairs, chocolate smeared on my face. The producer of the […]
Sunday Stories: “Take Me to the Boneyard”
Take Me to the Boneyard by Brenna Ehrlich Adam had missed her. Or he supposed he did. Or he was just bored. But she was here now, anyway. She was sitting on a rusted folding chair in his studio and she was looking at his art. “This one represents something about lost time,” Adam said slowly, gesticulating a bit wildly at a crushed pocket watch glued to a piece of wood. It hung on the wall over a melted Bill […]
Sunday Stories: “Constellations Of Maria: Seattle Chapters”
Constellations Of Maria: Seattle Chapters by Sarah Maria Medina It begins in my flat, inside the old two story house on 12th Avenue. The sun rises as Levi sleeps. I trail my fingertips over her bright sleeved tattoos. I can’t sleep when she stays. Our secrets keep me awake: the ones I turn from and the ones she holds out. I can’t be honest with myself about the river and with each layer of truth Levi speaks, I feel my […]
Sunday Stories: “Everyone’s Fifteen Minutes”
Everyone’s Fifteen Minutes by Nicholas Rys Now that there are these goddamn cameras all over the place everyone feels sorry for the Riggels, but let me tell you something. No one around here liked the Riggel family until they got murdered. If I’m being honest, I can’t remember when it was. The days all run together here; fold in to each other to make one sprawling, midwestern weekday.
Sunday Stories: “To/From”
To/From by Karolina Manko • Somewhere in a country I was born to but haven’t been to, there is a small white house that knows all the secrets I suspect to be mine. It has been built for hiding- my great-grandfather raised the floor so he could hide the neighbors from Germans. Generations later, the handmade fortress holds. Somewhere in the attic of this house are all of my childhood toys- abandoned, suddenly, the summer we moved to America. In my dreams, […]
Sunday Stories: “Junior”
Junior by Jacob Margolies Junior was a large, pudgy, olive-skinned boy. He was also a bully. In my prepubescent world, he was the twelve year old who walked up to the ten year old at the bus stop and punched him in the face. Sometimes he’d also take your bus pass. He only got mine once.