The Cloth

Harvey Havel Against the glow of a calm fire the young boy and his father ate their cooked lamb quietly within the dark confines of their hovel high on the Meccan hillside. They had just finished their evening prayers and were both famished from a day of trading trinkets in the city bazaar for whatever… More

The Expats

Angela Natividad As always, he saw her before she saw him: a wisp of a creature, sitting by a window with a hand-rolled cigarette, now mostly ash, smoldering between the fingers on her right hand. She was writing in a Moleskine with her left. He slowed his pace and fell across her like a ghost,… More

The Second Coming

Ikhide R. Ikheloa We sit around this fireplace in the sky that never goes out. We are staring at each other and these words are like the firewood that stokes the fire-of-many-faces. We sit around this fireplace but we are cold. Here take my firewood it burns bright it burns long it burns hard. Take… More

Out of Gas

Richard Cassone The rain fell. It fell in sheets. It fell in drops as penetrating as buckshot. It slowed and still fell: a light, widely woven blanket of needles, piercing, stinging. It was day, but dark like dusk. The old man watched. Explosions of water rattled his windshield. He saw from inside the bursts, through… More

Donald Mathison's Heart

Marcos Soriano On the third Wednesday in June, after a lunch he’d hardly managed to eat, Donald Mathison reported to the fifth floor of the 400 Parnassus Avenue Medical Building.  The weather had been unusually warm for the past several days, but inside the Oncology ward the air held an artificial chill, and gooseflesh rose… More


Braden Wiley It was a humid Sunday night in late June and the muggy air settled on Carolyn Leland’s skin like a silk sheet. She stood at the head of the driveway stretching her hamstrings and studying the neighborhood of Westhill. The purple dusk was diffusing to black and the din of the suburb tapered,… More

Half Conscious

Kristen O’Toole I came to Fiona’s because she lives in London, an ocean away from my fiancé. During the day, she takes me to the museums and galleries. Fiona helps art change hands for aliving.The nights are always cold and gray. Not even corners and alleys are ever truly black. Fiona touches my eyelids and… More