by Georgea Jourjouklis
“July eighth, noon,” Curio said into the voice recorder on his phone. “Targets A, B, C, exit their Honda after four days away from the primary location.”
He raised a pair of binoculars—a cheap, dollar-store brand his grandmother gifted him a few Christmases ago—then peered through the window at his neighbours across the street. The hot July sun beat down on his face. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction, Young Writers Edition
by April Bannister
When her heart buys its ticket and packs its suitcase and settles in its window seat to watch the airplane heave up from the soil, she is at home—she has not yet laid in her hospital bed, nor stepped on an airplane herself. When her heart buys its ticket, she feels it, chloroform cold radiating from inside her chest. She panics. Hands clutch at something too deep to grasp, so she flails, alone in her bedroom, alone in the apartment. I can’t die yet, she thinks. There’s so much food I need to eat. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction, Young Writers Edition
by Veronica Montes
Her tears and her spit and all her complicated feelings fly into the air.
She says many things including don’t make it about you, Mom, don’t. I nod and stop talking. I sneak a look at my son, who just flew in from New York. He’s scrolling through his texts. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Esteban Rodríguez
At least inside it was always December, a reliable winter unfurling from the lumps of ice clumped with a history of erupted sodas along the freezer walls. I rested my chin between the broken stacks of ice trays and the Ziploc bags stuffed with frostbitten meat I meant to cook, but never did. I turned and placed my cheek on the freezer bed, so glad to be home, and as that cool darkness began to numb my skin, I almost forgot the rabid sunlight Ana and I endured at la pulga all afternoon. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by James Callan
Between a super volcano to the north, and the “coolest little capital in the world” to the south, a small town of less than 2000 provides a nice toilet break for travelers on State Highway 1, a perfect place to stretch one’s legs on the long journey from point A to point B. Bladders empty, gas tank full, coffees in hand; spirits are high and the road no longer seems endless, but inviting. Yet before the young couple –the Germans or Canadians or Wellingtonians– before the jet-lagged family from Japan, from America, settle back into their seats to stare out the window for five more hours on their way to the Auckland airport, first: a portrait in front of the local attraction, the giant corrugated iron boot. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 