by Ryan Fagan “The Replacement Shift” placed fifth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2025 Fall Fiction Contest. I clock in at 6:02 p.m., and the scanner greets me like a metronome. Beep. Beep. Beep. The lights hum too bright for dusk, carts yawn, doors breathe us in and out. The…
by Charly Murmann Did I fall for you? I think I may have loved you. Maybe I did. Or maybe I loved the idea of falling in love with you. I fell in love with you. I loved your name: not common, chosen, and mysterious—Attic. I never asked you how…
by Rowan Tate I Suspect That Moths and Regret share a language no one translates. Grief has poor timing and excellent posture; I am learning to walk without finishing the sentence. I am not who I meant to become, but the bread still rises.
by Lucy Carr I dreamt of the red and yellow wool blanket that my wife, Evelyne, brought back from Morocco. She had purchased it in Tangier just before crossing the Straits of Gibraltar by ferry. I reached down to my calves to pull it across my body, my arms trembling…
by Jim Tilley We are used to white birches in the forest growing straight and tall, but I passed by one in a yard, bent and twisted, branches curled downward to the ground before rising again, as if it had suffered too many ice storms and never recovered. Beside it, a lush sugar maple grown taller, dominating the…
by John Neal “You have such a lovely house,” Meg said. “Is it?” Kate said. The words were out of her mouth before she realized she should have simply said “thank you.” Now Meg was giving her a funny look, and then maybe she figured Kate was being modest because…
by Sam Hendrian A Saturday afternoon comprised Of coupon compromises Among stockroom on-the-clockers Who wish people knew how to read hours of operation. Lingerie shops compete To see who can best fetishize denim And which A-list actress turned B-list model Can master that “I don’t care” stare. Public displays of affection By eighth-grade graduates Who will still laugh…
by Mike O’Brien Despite the wild wind, I will clingWhen all that’s around meis losing its grip,being torn from its mooringsand carried awayin madness and mayhemto God alone knows Despite the wild wind, I will cling,When no one can hear meover the bluster,the terrible creakingthe clanking and crackingas what was…
by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
by Sam Hendrian Needed to cut her nails For three weeks now But also needed a new clipper And didn’t want to waste the dough. Sat on the curb outside of Ralph’s Dreaming of the afterlife Not caring if it was heaven or hell Since either way she wouldn’t have to dream anymore. Rebuilt her social…