The Ritual
by James Jacob Hatfield
Joselyn has encouraged me to begin developing my own rituals. Things I do to calm down. Per the new installment of the Freedom of Medical Care Act (FMCA 7.3) “rituals” fall under the category of preventative medicine.
Now everytime I brush my teeth I time travel.
Poppies
by Rachel Calnek-Sugin
Once upon a time I had an aunt who was a witch. She lived in a white wooden house with a rickety wicker porch surrounded by fields of poppies. There wasn’t a square foot of her three or four acres in rural Northern Louisiana that wasn’t bursting with them. From late March until early May, there must have been thousands of flowers that dotted the landscape like flecks of paint or dribbles of blood with petals that all seemed to unfurl on the same day in an astonishing explosion of red.
Transcription
by Regan Mies
My mother told me over the phone that my brother had become “selectively deaf.” He could still hear. He enjoyed instrumental music. He often took nature walks in the arboretum along the shore. When we were kids, he could identify birds by their calls.
“He doesn’t want to listen to you?”
My mother scoffed. Her shopping cart clattered. The sound muffled as she swapped her phone from one ear to the other. “You know your brother. It’s his new thing.”
The Immanent Will
by Larry Smith
Aunt Susie could be implacable in ways that were good and useful. Two salient instances of this still loom in my consciousness, both instances during great difficult transitions for me. The first was when Bill and I split up. Now, Bill wasn’t a bad guy, I never thought he was, not even during our worst adversities. He was often sweet and his instincts about people and the world were typically humane. But he had this irrational streak. He would get something into his head and would not relent, no matter how unreasonable or indefensible he must have realized it was. I’m thinking of when Aunt Susie came to my rescue in a dispute with Bill involving a CD. Any divorce lawyer would have agreed that I was entitled to half of it. Bill insisted the whole thing belonged to him, always had and always would. It was more stubbornness than greed on his part. He wouldn’t listen to reason and averred he’d ignore any court order requiring him to pay. Didn’t make sense, and I was distraught because I needed the money then and there, not after some protracted adjudication and subsequent garnisheeing of his paycheck or whatever remedy was applicable.
Excerpt From Moonlighters
by Emily Cementina
At the hostess stand, waiting in your maroon dress (velvet, short, but long-sleeved; you think Henry will appreciate the duality), fake fur coat (black, to your knees, with a zipper that always gets stuck and a rayon liner that confirms any lingering doubt about the coat’s authenticity), and your single pair of expensive heels (also black, a gift, from your best friend Nina, and so tall you had to take a car into the city because you were afraid of navigating the subway stairs), you feel a mixture of superiority and discomfort.
A*
by Patrick W. Gallagher
I grew my hair long and bunched it up in as many pigtails as I could on all sides. By the time I was done, nine stubby pigtails of varying length shot and drooped out of my itchy scalp. But I ignored the urge to scratch my scalp and stood in the basement, my arms at my sides, with a long, thick comforter draped over my shoulders like a cape. I lectured on the secret origins of time and space.
Everything New is Old Again
by Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Creamed corn and chicken chase Lysol into her nostrils as she slows her motorized scooter to a stop at the dining hall entrance. Elizabeth notices an opening at the far side of the nurse-made clique of biddies who swallow bottom lips and stare into space.
Fanboy
by Dan Morey
Killer set. Loved the “Jingle Bells” cover. You looked like you were having a ton of fun up there. Like a completely crazed, Pixy Stix on Christmas morning kind of fun. Oh, I forgot—you’re from Australia. Pixy Stix is an American candy, basically flavored sugar in straws. When we were kids we’d pour them down our throats and go nuts. No, I don’t think the band was named after the candy. Pixies were great, though. Yeah. Classic. Still can’t get the bassline out of my head. Kim Deal actually sang some backup on Courtney Barnett’s second album. Right. And guitar on “Crippling Self Doubt.” Do you know Courtney Barnett? Yeah, no, I don’t really think everyone in Australia knows Courtney Barnett. But you do hang out with Russell Crowe, right? Of course.