Category Archives: Fiction

An Octopus Owner’s Manuel

by Corey Farrenkopf

I bought a mouse from the pet store. The clerk, Archie, whose name I finally learned from his laminated nametag, didn’t look at me. Two weeks later I bought a canary, orange as a tangerine. Archie remained aloof, his fingers scrolling through his smartphone. I thought he would notice when I purchased a hundred gallon aquarium, thirty some-odd fish, and all the filters/chemicals needed to develop an aquatic ecosystem in my bedroom. But no, Archie just chuckled under his breath at a photoshopped cat eating a taco. They didn’t sell cats. I would have bought one.
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The End of the Weather

by Sue Allison

One day the weather disappeared: it wasn’t fine or foul, hot or cold, wet or dry, mild or severe. It wasn’t anything you could name. It wasn’t light but it wasn’t dark, either. It was murky. The outside was murky, as if an opaque scrim had descended and hidden the blues and greens and lilac shades and all the varying temperatures there wasn’t a scale could measure, there were too many and they were in flux. At first, everyone assumed it was a new weather, but still weather and as such would burn off or blow through in a day or two, the way weather did. If anyone had known it was going to be permanent, something might have been able to have been done about it, or so people said afterwards; but, as other people said after that, it is easy to say things afterwards. Continue reading

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The Pharmacist Malgre Lui

by Gay Baines

It all started with a little argument he had with his mother, coming out of a larger, more important argument with his father.

His father wanted him to be a scientist. “Something practical.” But Jesus liked words: English lit, writing, acting. Especially acting. He would be the next Raul Julia. He imagined himself playing Romeo, Macbeth, Hamlet, Lear. He would show the Anglos how great a Latino actor could be. Continue reading

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A Good Mother

by Shuly Xóchitl Cawood

Marjorie rifled through the bathroom trash can with her right hand while using her left hand to grip the bathroom counter and steady herself. She’d had a little too much wine after her late lunch, but she deserved it, frankly. Though it was a cheap white wine from the grocery store, Marjorie felt sophisticated drinking it instead of beer, and she wanted to feel beautiful and sexy, even if she was in her house alone. Continue reading

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At the Bottom of the World

by Andrea Nolan

The girl felt a flick against her instep, and although the drowse of the day was thick upon her, she knew that when she opened her eyes her father’s fishing rod would be gone from where she had held it under her foot. She stood at the dock’s edge and looked at the blue-brown water. The concentric circles of the pole’s disappearance had only just begun their outward expansion. There was still a chance to catch the rod.

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