Category Archives: Fiction

Pelican

by E.H. Jacobs

I don’t know when the nickname “Pelican” completely replaced my father’s given name, but that’s what he’s been called since before I was born fifty years ago in a community hospital in Brooklyn, a hospital whose name has disappeared into the chasm of memory. My Mom, his second wife, the one who stuck with him long enough to procreate, called him Pelican–not honey, or dear, or even asshole, which was how I heard his third wife refer to him. The first time I remember actually hearing his name was when I accompanied him to a doctor’s appointment and the assistant called out “Earl?”–and I looked around to see who was being summoned–before she called out “Earl Roberts?” and I saw him stand. Continue reading

1 Comment

Filed under Fiction

Stalker Stalked

An excerpt from the novel by Lee Matthew Goldberg

“Hello, Vodka,” I said to the third martini I’d made myself that night.

I had a little neon lamp that said Vodka o’clock, a lit-up palm tree in pink with a bottle for a trunk. I liked to turn it on when I was home alone making cocktails. The sweet buzz it offered, the comforting pink blur. Since I drank martinis so often, you’d think I’d be good at making them, but mine consisted of straight alcohol in a glass with a pickled green olive from a jar. Classy, Lexi. Continue reading

2 Comments

Filed under Fiction

The Summer They Kept Dying

by Greg November

In August, astronomers discovered a hole in the universe: a billion light years across with no matter in it. I mentioned this to Jonas as we ripped up carpet, some of it practically new, in yet another old-timer’s room. It was the summer they kept dying. Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

How I’m Spending My Afterlife

An excerpt from the novel by Spencer Fleury

Even with that overpriced wetsuit, I was freezing. The Gulf of Mexico was an ice bath. The cold air scratched my lungs. I was gulping down mouthfuls of it as I dragged that paddle through seawater that felt as thick as treacle, trying to force that kayak shoreward. But I was flailing already, and any forward progress I made was through sheer stubbornness alone. I kept trying to gain the entire five miles with each stroke, to put this entire ordeal behind me with a single thrust. But after maybe ten minutes or so, my arms were overstretched elastic, flaccid and spent. Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

A Reef, Someday

by Trisha M. Cowen

For the Undersea Statue project by Jason deCaires Taylor

You, my new statue, are dropped in the sea today in shallow blue water right after sunrise. The installation team uses cranes to set you down, gently, on the ocean floor. When you land, the floor rumbles and sends creatures and sand scattering from invisible places towards the surface. I wait for the sand to settle before I scuba down to the resting point of my synthetic city to check out how you, my newly submerged statue of a pudgy man watching television, look amongst the others. You look at home between the sea grass and stone and lazy schools of fish curious to learn about their new neighbor. I return to take pictures of my altered creations the ocean has re-created and spit out. Soon, you will look like them. Someday, I won’t be able to recognize you. Continue reading

1 Comment

Filed under Fiction