by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
by Brian Reickert We rode out from Denver,Cherokee in towand you pretty worse for wear,across the receding foothillsand into the creased canvasof eastern Colorado. Hard winds against the trailer,endless cigarettesand some edibles,but no weed because ofinterstate paranoia. And wouldn’t you know,in Nebraska we’re stoppedand searched, but we could laugh(the pills…
by Brian Reickert “On the Lake” placed third in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2021 Fall Fiction Contest. Marc stepped into the canoe, sat on the caned seat, planted an oar on the rocky lake bottom, and pushed away from shore. Dylan waved goodbye to his mother who stood barefoot in the…
by Brian Reickert The sun flicked offlike it was on a switch,and the darknessand the cold were instantand absolute. No one expected it to happenlike that, not one.An event utterly without precedentor warning. Every law and book, everyprophecy and prayer,every theory and model, alloverturned and swept away, and no one…
by Brian Reickert On an August afternoon, on the fringe of a riotous wildflower garden, I crouched to observe the mortal struggle of a tiny green spider and a yellow/black hornet on the chest of Saint Francis draped in plaster robes, arms outstretched as if to embrace the world in…
by Brian Reickert When I was thirty-one I learned the difference between casket dead and hospital dead. There was no composure, only a profusion of absence and that which accompanies it. My father’s eyes were wide and yellow, his face whiskered and sallow, lips cracked, swollen tongue, mouth agape. The…