[fiction] My name is Charlie Heron, and I am Jesus Christ. * * * Of course, you can’t possibly think that I’m telling the truth. Probably think I’m a tweaker or a schizo. But I mean, you can think what you want—I won’t judge. I’m Jesus, remember? It’s the first day of my senior year […]
[fiction] Stage One—Let Go of Your Fear Start out in shallow, warm waters. If you’re learning to swim where there’s a current, be aware of the flow. If you insist on learning to swim this way, make sure you’re with someone who knows what she’s doing. Try floating. Try breathing underwater. Don’t panic. Wear goggles […]
[fiction] Theodore Loupeson’s feet dangled from the straight-backed chair across the desk from Headmaster Clay. Rain battered against the windows of the Briarwright school for boys—runoff poured from the granite lips of gargoyles onto November-bare rose bushes below. “Theodore.” Headmaster Clay slid a mess of papers onto the desk. “Let’s take a look at your […]
[fiction] I am a little man. That’s what Papi always says. Mijo, you are un hombrecito. That means that I must be strong, never ask for help and—very important—never cry. But my teacher doesn’t understand this and wants to know why I punched Manuel during recess. She says that I need to use my words […]
I was putting on my uniform when I first got the news, my red polo that won’t stop smelling like chicken grease no matter how many times I wash it, and the lingering stink of waffle fries. I told Rosie she was on speaker ‘cause I was getting ready for work, and she said, “Baby, that’s why I’m calling, and I’m telling you right now, you’re not gonna like it.” Can’t pretend I wasn’t shocked.
[creative nonfiction] Before I talk about Halloween and Corey Fisher and the two of us in the coat closet dressed as toilet paper mummies, let me start with Mom. Mom grew up in Chicago. As a teenager, she worked summers at Brookfield zoo. Head zookeeper of the petting zoo. All her stories from that time […]
[fiction] Katie turned up her music and pressed her headphones against her ears. It didn’t help; she still heard her brother yelling in the hallway, pacing, slamming his fists into the bannister. He stomped up the hall, slammed twice, stomped back, slammed three times. Repeat, repeat. Until he stopped panicking. Until he exhausted himself. Her […]
Since coming here, the bright red-orange of my skin has begun to fade into a washed out but stubborn stain. The gold of my eyes, too, has dulled to a yellowish brown. This place—they call it a school. We’ve been here almost a year now, and on my first day of class, as we sat in the rows of desks facing a woman with colorless skin and yellow hair, I raised my hand and asked, “Why is it spelled with an h?”
[fiction] Dad and I move wicker baskets from our van to the tent. Dad’s jerking baskets too hard. Apples fall out and roll across pavement. “Strawberries go on the short table,” I say. He’d placed them on the higher table, where we put the jam display. “Move them then,” he grunts. He pulls out another […]
[fiction] January 1 Liz: Happy new year!!! Alyssa: Not yet here ☹ What’s the future like? Liz: Wild. People are leaving this party in hovercars. Pretty sure we just achieved world peace. We all have teleportation bracelets now. Alyssa: Great! So you can come celebrate with me? Liz: I wish! “Lyyyssaaa.” Isaac drops onto the […]
[fiction] Feed “#DrunkAsFuckGirl” DAF!!! LMAO! idk how i feel about what’s going on, but you should of not drank so much… ur last night on earth wuz a good one. way to go down! DAF!!! we should of charged that bitch extra! some people just deserve to have dicks rubbed on their face. LOL!!! dont […]
[fiction] Mā explained over the phone: a violist sprained his wrist, tumbling after a volleyball, and the octet needed to practice with a replacement before Chinese school celebrated chūnjié tomorrow. She had a habit of molding requests into commands after several hours, so I saved time by consenting. It did excuse me from the January […]
In cowhide suspenders, nine-year-old Xavier was running toward the village. A copy of the Reverend’s abridged bible bobbed in his hands like a fish struggling to return to the sea. He had forgotten to read the assigned chapter in the bible. Last night, captivated by the stars in the dark purple clouds around the moon, […]
[fiction] —For my godson and his brother Tipping over trash cans and stacks of empty crates as he went, Ben created an obstacle course behind him. Ashen-colored snow flew up from under his feet as he ran through the alley at an all-out sprint. Dirty snow crunching, he thought. Flight of the muse underway, Urban […]
[fiction] Walking into rehearsal that day, I felt awkward and out of place. I sat at my little producer’s desk in a quiet corner of the drama room. I tried to scan the space from under the cover of my bangs, while pretending to read texts. The room looked like other classrooms—beige linoleum floors, once-white […]
Once again, here I am with a bursting bladder and a fried brain, frozen between two doors.
They mounted it overnight, cemented the rule so that there’d be no mistaking my high school for a safe space. The engraved letters of the white-and-gray sign, so new that it hasn’t even been vandalized yet, scream at me from above the bathroom door: Girls ONLY.
[fiction] After Dad left, Mom stayed up late at the kitchen table with a bottle of red wine, staining her teeth purple and chewing the edges of her nails. She did this for about three months. Then one day I came home after my last class—geography, I was in the sixth grade—and found her at […]
[self-translated fiction] Sitting on the wooden boat, Farid shook from the cold. It was night. The moon shone like a pearl on the smooth surface of the Mediterranean Sea. It was dark, dark like the smoke of fires, tragic like the body of his father, dark like the cave where Farid, who was only eight […]
[fiction] It’s getting dark and my arms are crawling with goosebumps. My butt is pretty much asleep at this point too, which makes it nearly impossible to get comfortable in this here stupid tree. The branch I’m on is like Mom’s eggshell mattress topper only the eggshells are more like little rocks. Like sitting on […]
I want them and there is no turning back. I won’t leave without them. I make sure no one is around before selecting the red one. I ease my hand into my pocket and finger the pen until it drops through a hole that feeds into the lining of my coat. Green, blue, gold, and purple follow. I consider taking the orange but I can’t decide. I stop. I walk calmly to the sketchbook section and pretend to browse. …
[fiction] The gravel churns under the wheels of the boxed-up Peugeot, the sound falling behind them into a quiet that exists where cities do not. Abbey checks her hair with her fingers. She’s learned how to turn it in a twist and secure it behind her head, letting chunks fall from the barrette and tickle […]
[fiction] To the person who took my GOLDEN CREEPING JENNY PLANT at 2:13 a.m., I saw you on our lawn! That plant was a memory of my mother. I can’t bring her back but you can bring back my plant. We’ll leave the windows unwatched tonight so you can return it without shame. DO THE […]
[fiction] All the food is kept in the house kitchen. Yon and I, like all the kids but Symboline, aren’t allowed to go there. Symboline, the oldest of us all, brings out bread for children who’ve been nicest to her and flicks crumbs at the others. After she saw our first kiss the other week, […]
[fiction] Part I Elsie Wood, Stenographer, Age 19 Late The sun’s long gone when I pull on my woolen coat, set my hat on my head, dash outside for the trolley, late, and I can only hope I haven’t missed the car that will get me to Washington Street on time to get the next […]
She loved the theater despite its flaws: the faded carpets and cracked poster frames, its lack of a curtain call. She clutched broom and dustpan and strained to hear the happenings in the dark room. Sometimes people clapped at the end, and she could pretend winter had passed and spring had come and she was […]
As the credits roll on the theater screen, I check my phone. Eleven thirty-four p.m., still too many hours until morning. Dad left for work a few hours ago. He’s working nights at the hospital this week. I make a list in my mind of things I can do tonight to pass the time. Read. […]
A whirring, choking noise, like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, erupts from my John Deere. I cut the engine, pull back. A half-chewed bone protrudes from a mound of Georgia red clay. At least it’s not a pile of dried dog shit. When that stuff gets up in the blades it spews out […]
Danny was always looking hard at everything, but at the moment he was looking especially hard at Carly the Carp, who had the knife in hand and at-the-ready for oblivious violence. That’s all it took to kick the music off in his head. Bongos carried the wobbly melody along, thudding and thumping deep in his […]
When I say the tree was hollow, I do not mean the trunk of it. No, the trunk was sturdy and new. Instead, the branches grew in all directions, even along the ground, spreading feverishly, so that there was a space inside where you could sit and talk, feet dangling off the ground, like being […]
In the shower, I let the hot water rinse out the blood, the tremors in my fingers quieting. I have a nice stack of scars and I wonder if they’ll still be there when I’m old, if I make it to old, and what I’ll tell my children or grandchildren when they ask me what they are. Maybe I’ll tell them that I was a knife juggler. They’ll like that. …
A literary and art journal
from the MFA community at
Antioch University Los Angeles.
We’ll keep you fed with great new writing, insightful interviews, and thought-provoking art, and promise with all our hearts never to share your info with anyone else.