Carl Watson

An excerpt from Backwards the Drowned Go Dreaming now available at Amazon Sometimes the speed works for you.  Sometimes you’re left behind. The latter is my usual state. It was the early 1980s, West Lakeview.  Subtle ...

Jill Rapaport

I was scrunched up tight against Mike and Elvin; we made a gaping trinity off the noses of which Esmee purveyed her shining but misguided Wagnerian fantasies. Her father, like the fathers of more socially assured characters,...

Ron Kolm

I’m a collector. I hunt down runs of literary magazines and signed first editions of tricky prose, and place them in university library archives. I collect comic books and the Jokers from decks of playing cards. I also ...

Norman Douglas

Rabbit and Crow watched as the sun came round over the field. "Did you sleep well?" Rabbit asked Crow. “I dreamed that I was running through the meadow,” said Crow. “Ah,” said Rabbit. Rabbit and Crow set ...

Melissa Febos

An excerpt from "The Savage Library" I just knew that Somerville would be the kind of neighborhood to go all out at Christmas. I was right. Winter Hill in particular was an orgy of blinking lights and glowing plastic fig...

Jonathan Shaw

An excerpt from "Narcisa" “The sick woman especially: no one surpasses her in refinements for ruling, oppressing, tyrannizing.” -- Nietzsche Carnaval was over. Weeks went by. The city of Rio de Janeiro was slowly goi...

Jennifer Adams

Matt was a blind date, the only one I ever went on. He was an acquaintance of a girl who had the locker next to mine senior year. She thought I’d like him because he was an artist and was sort of in a band. He played bass....

D. Scot Miller

My face is cold. A salty breeze numbing my cheeks. I have the black book in my lap, and a pen in my hand. Sunlight casts through black water, a murky aquamarine spreading its roots towards the edge of my boat. I’m awak...

Mike DeCapite

an excerpt from RUINED FOR LIFE! On a thick night in June I was waiting to hear from Luke and Crazy Mike. Kitty’d gone to bed, knowing it would be late if they showed up at all. I opened the fridge and stared at the pro...

Michael Gonzales

It was the fall of 1972 when I transferred to St. Catherine of Genoa in Washington Heights. On the first day of class a bugged wild boy named Tom Lowe, a short cat skin the color of a Hershey bar and a perfect Afro, served a...