Moving Limbs

Terry Sanville I hadn’t seen him for days. The seat next to me on the bus to San Fernando Junior High stayed empty. There were rumors: a fiery car crash, a crippling polio attack, the Russians kidnapping his whole family. The Sanders’ Studebaker was missing from their driveway. My mind conjured fantastic tales. But on… More

My Dinner With Andy

J. Andersen The assignment was simple, the man, not so. All I had to do was spend a week poking, probing, and if necessary, pulling from him the information required. After waiting a half hour at the pub, I was about to leave, flustered, when I saw my quarry enter…sharp, exact, and malign. He headed… More

Almost

Bruce Bromley She thought that she wanted him to stay in the same place, but she did not know where that place was. She wanted to be able to return to him, to come back with bags of vegetables, coffee, and cheese, to open their apartment door and smell the rosemary soap he showered with… More

Me and Henry Miller

John Hemingway I was reading a novel about every three or four days in the beginning and if I had any time between lessons I’d spend it at the Feltrinelli near the Scala. They had a good selection of American and English titles and as I bounced from stories as different as Endo’s The Sea… More

Strangers

Renee Evans At the breakfast table, Grace sits eating instant oatmeal she warmed in the microwave all by herself. The fake peach scent makes her stomach turn a little, but this is the only thing she knows how to fix and her mother—Diane—isn’t around to prepare anything for her, again. Her father, Frank, is in… More

The Dancing Bear

Julie Innis Because the dog sleeps all day, she’s awake all night, whining at both sides of their bed, high and plaintive, punctuated by the rolling of her ball and the clicking of her nails on the wooden floor. Sometimes the ball rolls under the radiator or the bureau or the bookcase they found outside… More

Pop Psychology

Dylan James Brock Part 2 22 June 2002, 3pm Hot sunshine awakens me. On the pop art print across from where I lie, Lichtenstein’s little dots diffuse into solid color, only to sharpen when I focus. I rise from bed, light a cigarette, and play some music. From my bedside coffee pot, I pour leftover,… More

Familiarity

Jonathan D. Scott It took me a few seconds before I understood that the girl was talking to me. She stood on the step above where I was sitting, bent slightly, casting a shadow over my textbook. “Joe!” I looked up. She was a white girl. Her light brown hair was pulled back behind her… More

Pop Psychology

Dylan James Brock Part 1 22 June 2002, twelve am Chloe and I sit facing each other on the stone railing of her front porch. It must be midnight – the stoplight above the intersection of Grant and Cherokee just started blinking red. I sip from a cup of coffee that is somehow cold in… More

Sissy, of Corint

Caitlin Horrocks Sissy had worked weekends at Corint’s Steakhouse since she was 15 and not allowed to carry open drinks to the tables. Another server or bartender had to do it for her and they grumbled, but not too loudly, because she was the boss’s daughter, and Zachary Corint was one of the few bosses… More