By Christopher Cruz
I raced back from our house in Puerto Rico, going back to where my father slipped off the cliff. My brother, Miguel, was with me.

Photo Story: All Things Bright and Beautiful

By Max Cardwell
Under northern skies in a hotel bed he is shifting in tidal sleep, from foyer bar oblivion.

Jimmy Leaves a Message and Considers Nautical Miles

By Jason Marak
Hi, Delta. You're not taking my calls. Maybe you don't have a signal. Either way. Just wanted to tell you keep clear of me.

The Lineup

By Michele Berger
Ricky drags Derek, out of his hiding place, into the lineup with the other neighborhood boys.

You Couldn’t Wait to Leave This Town

By Jennifer Handley
Concrete steps rise from pebbly cracked sidewalks, but go, absurdly, nowhere. Into the boards of a fence, or the sunless dirt beneath a low tree limb.


By Dzvinia Orlowsky
Late August, a cat rolling in mown grass flips to its back again, then to its feet, half sun-drunk, half whiplash tail. I am loved. Not. Am.

Passing Lane

By M.J. Iuppa
Sally was the twin who took chances. A cherry-lipped brunette with a Louise Brook’s bob, she turned heads in traffic.

Photo Story: The Abominable

By Michael Snyder
Lucy could bend even the smallest rays of light to her will. She created her own humidity, burrowed deep, and made dormant things grow.

Sherrie Flick: Finding Truth in Compression

Why did we interview Sherrie Flick? First, we loved Sherrie Flick’s recent story collection, Whiskey, Etc. Second, we’ve heard a lot of great things about Sherrie from others in the flash fiction community, such as, "Wow, you have to read Sherrie Flick's flash," and "She's an amazing food writer." Third, we wished we would have asked her questions about Pittsburgh, but fortunately she told us about a road trip she’d have with Gertrude Stein.

Sweetie Pie

By Sherrie Flick
I started calling both my dog and husband Sweetie Pie the same year my husband found my lover’s cashmere sock.

Salient Sounds

By Connor Walsh
Back when I was young enough to invent and trust in my own Boy Scout knot, I tied a tape-recorder to a turtle’s shell and set it free.

Invite Him In, Ask For Help

By Simon Jimenez
The zipper began at the nape of her neck. With thumb and forefinger, he pulled, slow, drawing out the sound of the unraveling of caught teeth.