Stories

The Mother – Marceline Mayfield

Eighteen dead hippopotamuses washed ashore on Stockton Beach. The sand beneath the purple mass sank like the bed of a giant; death-plumped bodies overlapped. Waves stroked swollen hides and moonlit bellies, swaying like restless dreamers.

Footsteps neared with a dull thunder. A bloated figure lead the drunken sway of a forming crowd. His hairy trunks parted shallow waters. In a wild swig he emptied his bottle and brandished it like a baton.

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Stories

Let’s Play: Was My Dad An Alcoholic? – Sabrina Small

I had an edgy conversation with my sister two weeks ago on an Italian lake: Lounge chairs….umbrella tables with their own personalized ashtrays….kids frolic amongst swans, pedal boats, giant inflatable rafts.

In the lounge chair in front of us, a mahogany bedpost in his 70s,

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Stories

Extratone – Stuart Buck

        Friday nights were bass night at Charlie’s Arcade. You waited until the last customer left then Charlie opened the back of the Street Fighter 2 machine. Instead of a computer board and assorted wires, inside was a tiny door. Open the door and there’s a spiral staircase carved into the earth. Go down that and you come out in a massive room, lined with egg cartons to reduce the noise.

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Stories

The Adventure of the Glass Pipe – Caleb McGhee

        My companion and I were somewhat “hard up,” as the saying goes, not having had a good case in months. I of course could economize, yet the profound boredom and lassitude of my friend’s soul, his ennui as the French call it, had reached a breaking point. His original vice of cocaine had picked up, now progressing to smoking crack, and we were forced to pawn some of the furniture.

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