Fiction
Woman Gives Birth!
“It’s selfish, that’s what it is, Trish!” “How’s it selfish?” “It’s perverted.” “My body, my choice.” “Don’t pull hippie bull-shit on me!” “It’s natural!” “You’re putting yourself in danger and the baby.” Mum’s been against self-birth since the beginning. My friend Day is also having a baby, the normal way. Tells me that I’m brave. … Continue reading Woman Gives Birth!
What Counts
Jacob can’t remember learning math; it’s just something he’s always known how to do. If there were 3 chickens and papa took away 1, there were 2 left. It was simple. His parents, humble, hardworking people, never had heads for figures like he did. They were born to till land and milk cows while Jacob … Continue reading What Counts
Self-Alienated
You persistently try to find meaning in a universe apathetic to your attempts. In case you’re reading my story and persistently puzzled by the frequent, out-of-place burning numbers, however, feel inclined to look up “Kohlberg’s Stages of Moral Reasoning,” as well the criticisms which note that the stages may be circumstantial modes of reasoning—not modes … Continue reading Self-Alienated
65 Inches Wide and 37 Inches High
Let us observe the Clarks in the television room of their small but not unhappy home, a respectably uninteresting red brick that might wait on a grassy hill in any mid-Western neighborhood. Amelia Clark is sitting on the couch. Her legs are propped on the coffee table, sprouting towards the television. The back of her … Continue reading 65 Inches Wide and 37 Inches High
At Once
There is nothing more capable than an Apple font for undermining her self-esteem. She thinks, a nagging woman isn’t flattering, fact of ’Merica, probably world, and these words are not hers but phrases her next door neighbor spoke, a kid with a faux-hawk and cargo pants. This is the sort of nonsense that, floating in … Continue reading At Once
Six of Spades
They introduced themselves in turn in their south-Wexford accents, starting with the tavern owner sitting to my left. Lawrence Cronin, or “Lar” as he insisted I call him, with his scruffy salt-and-pepper beard, pale skin, and of course his endless stream of questions, such as where was I from? What was I doing this far … Continue reading Six of Spades
Council of Originals
Silence. It shrouded the meadow in an unnatural stealth that belied the epic gathering that was to begin in but a few moments time. Night had already arrived. He sat with the same finite stillness as the quiet gathered around him. Neither listening nor staring for any hint of the others who would come to … Continue reading Council of Originals