Pete Nelson & Robin Russin The holograms of his father were not enough. Leo shuffled through them anyway. Sometimes he would play them at actual size, and then he could pretend his father was there in the room with him. Sometimes he would play them at two- or three-hundred-percent, and then he could watch his father’s hands in closeup as they danced across the piano keys in some concert hall, and then Leo would playback at half speed to slow them down. Sometimes he shrank the

Annie Fay Meitchik It was the kind of morning where Ingrid’s feet stung as she swiveled out of bed touching the wooden floorboards tentatively, the way one might dip a toe in a swimming pool. She wrapped the duvet around her shoulders and made her way down the stairs. The grandfather clock in the hallway said it was 6:17. Morning or evening, it didn’t matter. The clock had been wrong for years. Ingrid rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Even though she saw Richard’s

Eugene Navakas I zipped the tent shut and fell asleep. Which was prohibited, which I didn’t realize. Which was unfortunate, because, according to Google’s translation of the website, “there may be a slight gas seepage from the underground in the area.” Not sure how I missed that. When you move to Denmark, there’s a list of eternally recurring Themes: trust, taxes, d’s that sound like l’s at Mardi Gras. Sometimes, though, it’s the smaller things. * * * The troll who shook me a

Michael Loyd Gray Turns out this gal with the toothy smile had a runty kid, a boy. Of course. I probably should have seen that one coming from at least a mile away. Two miles, probably. Maybe even from outer space. But I didn’t know any of that when I met her after my gig at The Filling Station, a dive bar just off the Black Canyon Freeway north of Phoenix. The lights there had been turned down, kind of an amber glow, and that made her smile sexier than it would be in dayl

Tony Ozuna Waiting for the “22” they greet each other with a head nod, as they have every now and then over the years, for at least two decades. And this morning it is drizzling and crowded as usual at the tram stop for the metro station I.P. Pavlova, with everyone waiting impatiently for their tram to get to work. “ Jak se máš ?” (“How are you doing?) Pablo asks the Fat Man, a middle-aged porky that he knows, in the same sarcastic and upbeat way used in the film Borat, with

Mark McBride “You know who I am.” A statement I first said in March after she thought I was the butcher from Heartly’s Meat Market. Sometimes she thinks I’m Clive her husband (my stepdad, thirteen years deceased) or a nurse’s aide named Manny to whom she complains of clogged bowels. Today, I’m in luck. “I reckon you’re my son.” The upper half of her bed is elevated to keep the fluids around her heart at bay. “And what’s my name?” “Daffy Duck.” “My name’s David, Ma. You

Cora Enterline Somewhere, in a studio that echoes with the patter of rain on a steel roof, a potter is hunched over a spinning wheel of clay. A kiln in the back corner radiates heat and the windows let in no light. It has rained like this for eight days straight. His foot taps a rhythm on the pedal: one, two, three even pumps. This time next week, the gray disc, now centered on the wheel, will be a pasta bowl or a flower vase or a seder plate. The man’s hands are slick with w

Elisha Emerson I was lonely, until Mom said Jesus could ride beside me on the bus. Eight years old and failing to lure friends with my illustrated King James Bible, though it lay open in my lap to the most scintillating pages--Abraham quivering a knife over his son or Goliath huge, sprawled, and bleeding out. Jesus, Mom claimed, was beside me all along. Then I saw him, too, upright and calm, robes spilled like blue Kool-Aid over the torn vinyl seats. Now, he’s an anecdote

Rose Malone One day, in 2020, that year of interminable, innumerable days, seventy-two year old Cassie Ferguson fell in love with the colour turquoise. A watery, unnatural colour with the hardness of stone, the fluidity of water. Always a small shock, a minor lightning bolt. She had hitherto thought of herself as an earthed person. More lightning conductor than generator of sparks. A peace-loving, peace-making middle child. Lockdown hit her hard. The night the Taoiseach came

Andrew Haynes Shortly after graduation, Ms. Tattersall joined Newgate High School, a college preparatory whose students matriculated into the best universities around the country. Newgate (which according to the curious laws of New England pronunciation, rhymed with “nougat”) was the last stop on the Green Line running west of Boston. It attracted professionals of the higher tax brackets, renowned academics who held tenured posts at Boston’s esteemed universities, professiona

Donauta Watson Flashes of electricity from a wall socket leaves me frazzled, the land lady’s son comes to fix the wall unit. Leaning on...

A song performed by Skeng in Brooklyn Donauta Watson Morning broad back views flipped upside down hit different at day break. See, the...

Jim Schepker I had a dream last night. I’m sorry about starting this story with those six worn and weary words, but I had been having...

Harry Lowther The true and tragic story of the Lion Queen really features one English girl, one lion, and one tiger, however, since the...

Morgan Yazdi I’m a good manipulator, not a good murderer. Lying is instinctual, but I fear I’m too timid to kill. I’m too afraid to...

Cosmo Hinsman It was the sort of day to do something drastic. “My wife left me,” Richard John Jerimiah explained to the...

Celest Avila One summer, they meet with freshly emptied hearts and tentatively open minds. The days of sun are spent together with laughs...

Payal Nagpal Potential Beard Number Five texts me. He suggests dinner at the Marina; another waterfront fusion restaurant in downtown...

Rose Malone The ordinariness of things shuddered to a halt. Janice heard the four-note signal of Fintan’s computer shutting down. The...

Beth Brown Editor’s note—this selection is an excerpt from a novel called Saint Jane, which will be published in 2025 It was your idea,...