Art

Double Life – Stephanie Yue Duhem

“Dove” is not the plural of “dove,” my dear—
no, it is not like “deer.” Above, the clouds

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Stories

Fiction Reader/Writer – Derek Maine

Two Sunday mornings ago I sat on the beach watching the children play in the water. I will write it this way or some other way for the rest of my life. I was made of lighter stuff back then; I was excellent at parties. The news vans arrived after the ambulance, thankfully never catching our name. Two Monday mornings ago the paper lied about the extent of my daughter’s injuries to quell the tourists before an important fourth of July weekend.

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Stories

A Hot Knife Which Reveals a Disclosure Concerning Survival – Sam Heaps

When the first responder finally sleeps with a woman after his divorce, he will smell the woman’s breath, fetid so late in the night, think of Diana, and call out God Save the Queen as he reaches climax. 

The scent he catches is like both the wound, and the soured stitching.

The body after sex in the back of the car and the drinking so to the first responder it is cum down her thighs and a little burnt flesh and vodka or gin,

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Stories

Daydreams – Teddy Burnette

Here’s something for you, she said, handing G a drink of some mixture, which he downed immediately upon holding the glass. Here’s something for you, he said, handing the drink back to her. That’s for you S, he said, and she walked away, hating him. G stood up and followed her through the party of people, the people of the party, to the kitchen where she placed down the glass and eyed the cocaine on the counter,

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