Stories

Who Among Us Has Not Stepped Through This Door? – Theresa Smith

All of the treatments were, in their own ways, total hells, but the treatment for high-inference psychosis was probably the worst of them. They stick you in this bright little room with lots of windows and an old computer and make you watch a movie. So in the first scene of this movie there’s a man driving a pickup truck full of yellow bricks over a narrow, rickety bridge. The bridge sways and collapses and the truck pitches into the river below.

READ MORE

READ MORE


Stories

Barabbas – Theresa Smith

Barabbas is late. I had a feeling about Barabbas. I have to admit I was seduced by his resume: Herodic palace guard, Oriental astrologer and, here’s the kicker, a speaking role as Pharisee 2 in Matthew 19:7. But here we are, the masses are screaming, the Son of God’s in shackles, Pontius Pilate has to leave at 6:30 – and no Barabbas.

 

From my desk,

READ MORE

READ MORE


Stories

Neighborhoods – Theresa Smith

It is lonely work. No one moves down these streets but you, the observer and chronicler of discarded futures. You are here because you know there is something of value in these darkening and desolate avenues. You watch as nothingness spreads its arms and engulfs the rye grasses and scrap heaps in a sterile cloak of equanimity, transforming them slowly, moment by antlike moment, into a heap of identical geometric objects whose constituent particles hold only a dim house-memory.

READ MORE

READ MORE


Reviews

Henry – Theresa Smith

I laughed heartily. I winked outrageously. I raked my upper lip over my front teeth in a parody of dumb-hick perplexity, jarred my jaw and furrowed my forehead in a rictus of pained confusion. He stared at the ground. I tightened the mask, letting him absorb my silence.“LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT MY STUPID FACE, SACK OF SHIT!”

READ MORE