Mary’s Small Batch Maidens
Fiction by Didier Smith | He looked down and saw the handle of his steak knife, protruding from his gut. He looked up. Hayley was standing over him, eyes wide in shock. Fuck, that was a lot of blood.
read moreFiction by Didier Smith | He looked down and saw the handle of his steak knife, protruding from his gut. He looked up. Hayley was standing over him, eyes wide in shock. Fuck, that was a lot of blood.
read moreFiction by Jeremiah Suit | After I wiped the puke from my chin, I turned toward Mr. Elephant Dick. Racked another round and blasted him dead of center. Fucker didn’t move.
read moreFiction by Kirbster | George Holiday, the driver of the Catalina, was dangerous-looking despite wearing glasses. His Coke-bottle lenses gave him monstrous green eyes. He wore his black hair past the ears, and it always looked greasy. George carried the aroma of day-old Aqua Velva
read moreFiction by Arbogast | “Are you telling me that our victim was killed by a vampire?” “Maybe,” Tod said with some hesitation.
read moreFiction by Andrew Jankowski | Mr. Schultz labors down the stairs holding his dirty laundry. He kicks the bottom step three times, like a lazy mule trying to drive away a pestering insect. Or Dorothy conjuring her homeward flight. Short, fat, awkwardly proportioned, obsessive little Schultz is out of breath by the time he crosses the tiny lobby of the small decaying hotel where I work as night manager
read moreFiction by Simon Rowat | I re-enter the study and step over his writhing body and center myself with a long inhalation by his writing desk before creaking grandly into his leather armchair. My anger has subsided
read moreFiction by Devon Eriksen | Our first day of travel starts with a jolt. There’s no warning. The deck just leaps up and slams into my spine.
read moreEssay by Andreas Bordin | When the news of Kirk’s death was confirmed, reactions varied. Some students laughed, others were shaken. One member of the Afro Student Association exclaimed, “F**k, he died bro?”
read moreBook review by Amory Crane | “What was your Kronstadt?” was once a common refrain among old leftists, who often asked it with a note of chummy fatalism as a means of sounding out one another’s anti-Soviet priors
read moreEssay by Reynard Fuchs | Over the course of the traveling sideshow that was Jake Tapper’s book promotion tour, the urge to smash my phone into a trillion shards of plastic and glass steadily grew.
read more