I wanted a girl and I needed one by morning. I called out to the wind: “Will someone give me a chance?” I was met only by silence. “You are too much alone,” my sons said, meaning my home-making, my afternoons of
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At 8:47 a.m., my toaster told me Julius Caesar had been assassinated—again. “It’s the Ides,” it said, “third time this week.” I spat toothpaste into the sink and wiped my mouth with a sock from the future. It said EARTH COLONY 9B—CLASSIFIED
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When they cut her open, they found many things that didn’t belong. It wasn’t a surprise. Her x-ray revealed abnormal protrusions from multiple organs; nothing serious (like a malignant tumor). On the operating table, abdomen flaps splayed open, masked faces peering atop
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Cover art by Mijmark. Mijmark (mïj’-mark): n, adj., adv. Random origins. Describes a quality of a surreal contradiction ofterms that became reality. 1) Not just a pseudonym; its subsequent meaning cannot truly be defined. To describe that polarization existing between meanings, how
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I’d been talking with Joshua for about an hour at the No Life Bar on Prospect Street when I noticed it: the knife sticking out of the back of his neck, just a few inches to the left of his spinal column.
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A month before your face disappeared, we were at the dinner table, silent as usual. Forking at the rice aimlessly, I blurted out to you “I signed a lease on a new apartment.” Without saying a word, you got up from the
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Nobody knew how Miguel got sick. That morning he had been running wild through the streets with the other neighborhood boys, playing baseball and seeing who could run to the corner bodega the fastest. The July sun had branded a bold flush
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“The Herald?” Two bored, brown eyes looked through the thin metal slot behind the heavy door. Ostensibly, the entrance looked more like a bomb shelter than a simple shop, and certainly not the kind you’d see in a small town. It was the kind
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Helga suspected but couldn’t know for sure. Signs abounded, however. Newspaper gone to black and white snowflakes. Scraps disappearing from countertops. Prescriptions with her suddenly omitted address and phone number. As though—no. Every Covergirl was losing her head, but through tender serration,
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Slate clouds roiled overhead as Ray walked down a narrow street. He passed an old man wearing a fedora and crumpled gray suit who was standing in the angled storefront of a small shop. A few antiques were displayed in the windows.
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