November 3, 2009.
by Kristen M. Håvet.
She could be Oprah, if Oprah were white. My mind flashes back to five years old and I’m eating Cheerios in front of Oprah, enthralled with the crying women and suffering even then. Cheating husbands, back-stabbing twins – miscommunicated, excommunicated, years gone by, wasted, wasted… [Read more]
September 28, 2009.
by Susan Williams.
He tried to think where he went wrong, what he did to not keep the favour of the priests. His parents had told him of his destiny. He was to then sit next to his uncles and the great god Ah Kinchel for all eternity. His name H’Ahnun was to be revered for the next 13 precessions around the sun. What was his destiny now? … [Read more]
June 8, 2009.
by Josh Wiebe.
To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what the point is, all I know is that two days ago I’d slept with my arms wrapped around a woman I loved, and today I teared up when Tom Doniphon burnt his house down in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and fell asleep alone… [Read more]
March 24, 2009.
by Alexa Woods.
Sophia didn’t tell him that Paul had never been late. She hadn’t told him about Paul at all, though her wedding ring was displayed prominently on her finger. She twisted it nervously round and round. Mark raised an eyebrow at it but said nothing… [Read more]
March 7, 2009.
by Nick VanderWoud.
Robin’s grandmother fired a shot and the N.E.C.s trachea tore apart in a gust of blood that sploshed across the coffee table, sending the bone skittering across the table. Everyone froze, hands still clasped even to the lifeless body of their once ally.
“Transcendence is a bitch, isn’t it?” … [Read more]
February 22, 2009.
by Michelle Kaeser.
Mary’s a superhero. But her powers rest on one teensy sacrifice: lifelong virginity. If ever she does the deed, knocks boots, rides the rocket, rolls in the hay, she’ll lose her superpowers forever. Penetration? Forget it. Oral? Verboten. Manual, please? Nope. Poor Mary, she’s horny as hell… [Read more]
February 18, 2009.
by Claire Gibson.
I dream that I’m back in San Diego and drunk again, on the fire escape of the El Cortez. Ben is sitting on the metal steps with no shoes on, smoking and laughing. He tries to hand me a cigarette with his foot, then falls backwards and away from us, all at once. We’re left five stories up, staring at the place where he was… [Read more]
