by Nicholas Claro
Years ago, when my father was still alive, I watched him put a cigar out on a kid’s cheek.
I say “kid,” but he was probably closer to twenty than twelve. That made him adult enough.
“He was acting like a dumbass kid,” my father told me later. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Anastasia Campbell
The light dances in these streets, bounces from building to building. Loud Moroccan sun, loud even in December, has been beating on this intersection like on a drum, and is now leaving. Pedestrians are picking up their pace; cars look as if they hiccup while attempting to move. The whole town of Tangier is just like this light; it is just like the sea it abuts –after a day of escapade it looks for a flat surface to retreat to. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Allison Whittenberg
We had eggs. Eggs and bacon, too. But Dad wanted an Egg McMuffin—with sausage. And we didn’t have sausage, and we didn’t know how to make it taste like McDonald’s. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Amanda Hays Blasko
We’re poor until Graham almost dies.
Like many things, it starts simply enough—we’re outside in the sun, waiting in line for the new barbeque place. The restaurant presents as a mom and pop but is actually run by a megacorp, and it’s so committed to its “small business” aesthetic that people wait in line for hours for the business to open, hoping to receive a slab of paper-wrapped meat before it runs out and the line disperses. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Alice Cross
Ethan escapes as soon as Russell erupts. He remembers to grab his jacket, so he should be okay later when the temperature drops.
He knows what he would see if he dared to look back: their parents frozen in fear and shame. This bullying boy is their son, the product of their union. They await what they see as their due, their punishment for somehow failing him. Soda has been thrown in their faces. They will be grateful it was not the can. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 