Story Archives

, | By Valerie Wetlaufer & Molly Sutton Kiefer

[ August 17, 2015 ]

Dear Dome of Impenetrable Darkness

Dear dome of impenetrable darkness— It is only fair I give you some glimpse of my own birth: that was the year the Andean volcanoes sent England magnificent weather: tides blasting against the shore, light dashed across the sky, the slant of rain coming down like a puppet’s strings. Mid-August, a comet smeared the inky …

, | By Gary Fincke

[ August 10, 2015 ]

Job’s Back Yard

Listen, most sinkholes occur on Thursdays. If you don’t believe that, go Google it and see for yourself. If that doesn’t suit, come and take a look, this Thursday afternoon, at my neighbor’s yard, so perfectly landscaped until an hour ago. Now you can stand half way up Wanda Brooker’s rock garden bank and look down …

, | By Susan DeFreitas

[ August 3, 2015 ]

The Terrible Child

When we were young, we all believed in something called earth changes. The coming of quakes, floods, droughts—natural disasters in increasing frequency and severity—pole-shift and climate change. Things of this nature. But we were not afraid. We were so young then that we believed we cared more for the earth than we did for ourselves. …

, | By Jeff Fearnside

[ July 27, 2015 ]

Checkout

She wore a plain brown scarf on her head, dark crow’s wings of hair peeking out from the rough cloth, framing a pale, thin face. A young boy, with the body of a three-year-old but the large round head of a much older child, pulled at her skirt, also rough but with a bright, flowered …

, | By Nate Pritts

[ July 20, 2015 ]

The Letter

Sam brought in the mail just after noon on Wednesday, threw it on the table, and started to make some lunch. He didn’t sort through the envelopes until a few hours later. After lunch, he cleaned up his plate and put the long bag of white bread away. Then he got on a kick about …

, | By J Adamthwaite

[ July 13, 2015 ]

The White Stork

A stork on your roof is a blessing from God. That’s what everyone says. We can see the edge of the nest above us from our bedroom window, a shadow of twigs watching over our sleep. Sometimes she calls to herself, and it sounds like she’s firing machine guns out over Warsaw. Izabella has started …

| By Jen Junggust

[ July 10, 2015 ]

Making Others Feel Less Alone: An Interview With Kastalia Medrano

When I was a child, there was a monster under my bed. It was there when I was born, and when I was old enough to move from my mom’s bedroom to my own it moved in with me. I thought sometimes that together we took up too much room, but neither of us wanted …

, | By Zinnia Smith

[ July 6, 2015 ]

Sweet Virginia

It seems to me that much of my life can be reiterated with a few sentiments and phrases. There have not been many extraordinary circumstances—the only exception being a short two years that meant to me everything life could be. One day, I was born and given the name Lucy. I was raised in my …

, | By Sahar Mustafah

[ June 29, 2015 ]

The Great Chicago Fire

  His right eyelid was like an apricot pulp forgotten in the sun too long, its once inviting color long faded. My parents wanted me to call him khalo, but khalo meant uncle, and uncle was familiar, yet this man wasn’t familiar to me at all. Though he and my mother shared the same thick, …

, | By Pat Rathbone

[ June 22, 2015 ]

Monsters

Luisa eyes the asparagus I am preparing for our dinner. She says my kitchen is her cooking school—Maggie’s Culinary Institute, she calls it. I tell her she needs to secure more professional instruction before she quits her day job. She is the CEO of a non-profit on the other coast. She makes big bucks. I …