They were a couple with no children, living poor in a two-story frame building that had gone without fresh paint since 1929. This caused talk; Doc Hawkins was a dentist with his own office above the State Bank Building and should have been doing better. But Doc, as everyone called him, was a man in … Continue reading
Tag Archives: spring 2014
Blue — Kirsten Nelson
If I had a mohawk, it would be blue. It wouldn’t be one of those plain mohawks like you could give a toddler who wants to be different on the preschool playground. Mine would be ten separate mohawks creating liberty spikes that sing “let freedom do whatever the fuck it wants.” My hair would be … Continue reading
Fort — Emm Borgerding
July 1999 I am Abbie, I am eight years old, and this is my fort. It’s actually my brother Lincoln’s fort. He and my dad built it after we moved here from Indiana, but he’s gone back for college, so it’s my fort now. I go here every day after my mama comes home. I … Continue reading
Tumble Dust — Diane Constantine
Maynard stared hard at the murky darkness under his bed and frowned, squinting as he tried to see what might be there. His mother had ordered him to clean his room, starting with the bed – which was in sad, sad shape. The bedspread was flipped over the end and draped across the floor; the … Continue reading
Where Pickled Jalapeños Grow — Sean Taylor
She misplaced her trauma through running, pressing the seconds into the ground, her long legs time-stamped away hours. “My shoes are coming off!” she yelled as the front door finished its crescendo; first the brass section hinges all worn down to different notes, then the beaten air of a slammed door drum. The tile was … Continue reading
Impact — Maddie Baise
I found the bird before my brother did, laying just below our kitchen window in a crumpled heap of red. At first, I thought its twisted body was covered in blood. But, as I crept closer, I saw that the color came instead from its vibrantly colored feathers. “Goddamnit,” Zack muttered as he crouched down … Continue reading
Stardust — Lauro Palomba
Saturday night at the World. For once, most of the fashionably-dressed and fine-looking women in this ritzy hotel’s lobby don’t come from an escort service. One of the summer’s hot tickets. Browsing the crowd, I recognize the television personalities, the city’s well-connected, the athletes and per- formers of other stripes, long-legged and high-heeled, heads shaved … Continue reading
Sleepless Nights and Apologies — Heather Job
Three stars poke through the thick fog, like the stars guiding three wise men to sleeping Jesus in a manger. It’s a pathetic showing, but I can’t help feeling proud of those three pinprick stars for being so brave. They poke their heads over the smoke from the factories, jostling to see the city below. … Continue reading
Notions of a Dead Horse — Heather Job
The air is hot and sticky, thick with summer heat and the smell of decay. My skin feels waterlogged and my limbs like sandbags. We stand in the fading light of the Colorado sunset, a shotgun loaded in his hand, looking out over the barren pasture. Before us is a horse, his daughter’s. It lies … Continue reading
Plus One — Ethan Wykert
I made it through the ceremony without a problem. I sat next to an elderly couple: the cute, bed-and-breakfast kind. The woman complimented my dress and the man told me not to break too many hearts tonight. I was nice. I laughed. The minister was good, if a little long-winded. I can respect the anecdotes … Continue reading
Coe Review 