Introducing Steve Eoannou, one of SFWP’s 2013 Fiction Finalists! His collection, Muscle Cars, will be published by SFWP in 2015. Sheila Lamb: Your short story collection, Muscle Cars, was a finalist for the 2013 Literary Awards Program. What made you decide to...
It was cold the morning of my father’s surgery. Wind from Canada swirled across the lake and loosened the last grip of fall. Every brittle leaf that scraped across the pavement reminded me that snow would soon blanket the roofs, the gutters, and the limbs of skeletal...
We never left them dangling there for long, swaying back and forth between the fenceposts, little Jenny’s skipping rope suspending them above the ground in scuffed pink neckties. Sometimes Jenny would spy on us then come running over with glossy red eyes, flailing her...
The ninth year of Margarita Yurevna Platnikova’s life was the year that the village of the Lungs finally got its prized silver icon back. It was also the year that she was sunburned four days in a row and once in the dark. That year, from November to October, it...
“Nigger trumps faggot,” Andre told Frankie, spitting blood with the words, a twist of handkerchief stuffed into his left nostril, a line of red between the white cloth and the brown of Andre’s nose. They sat with their backs to the graveyard wall, looking out at the...
Quarter is in the house, in the wider sense of the word that includes the S-2 bus, so I don’t have to check my watch or scam off of someone else’s before going back to my book on why the Anasazi disappeared. I know what time it is: between eight forty-nine and eight...
