Sydney Koeplin “I think we should have claws.” “Pinchers.” “Fangs!” “Fur.” We threw our ingredients into the twenty-gallon plastic tub we’d stolen from the Galliones’ backyard and...
Kelly Murashige The baby has been crying for what feels like three days straight. Mari, for her part, has joined in intermittently. It isn’t just the stress of being a first-time parent. The pain....
John Farrell Kelly A melody emerges in the darkness. My spirit slowly surfaces, and my mind gently moves and stretches. I quietly state, “Siri, stop.” I open my eyes, turn to my side, and tap my...
Denise Magloire The sound of drops crashing against the window fills the room until they are masked by the cries of a newborn. His lungs fill up with air, his fists tightly clenched, and his eyes...
Cole Pragides At dawn, my grandfather’s eyes are enveloped in silver mist. Burning atmospheres as he looks around his backyard of small effigies. Around us: dented tins, scarred lacquer, gouged wax...
Chris Edmonds We went once to see our father in Crawford, that spring he’d been hired to paint the church steeple. We told our mother we were taking a long bike ride around the lake and maybe...
Chey Dugan Content Warning: This story contains depictions of and discusses the following sensitive topics: death/dying. In the parking lot of Thrive & Blossom, I scratched the stubble on my neck...
Lizzy Ke Polishan peels. My father was a hoe and my mother was a rake. My brother, a fishbone; my sister, a crushed egg. I loved the dirt so much I turned it into my shoes. I loved...
Kate Kadleck Remember when we named ourselves after condiments? When you licked the lamppost in front of my house? I can’t, for the life of me, recall whether (and if so, for how long) your...
Erika Niemi Content Warning: This story contains depictions of and discusses the following sensitive topics: suicide ideation and descriptions of attempted suicide . “Well, the real trick to being...