Issue 8 / Winter 2017 T he message gathered itself and shaped its form before traveling from fingertips to device to satellite to device sub prime, bouncing from Earth to space to Earth again. “Did you know that meteorites are for sale?” my sister asked,...
??? Avenged Sevenfold It’s not my kind of music, not anymore. But it fit the harsh, ringing time of my life when all I wanted was something loud enough to drown out my own mind. It fit the boy who slouched against a wall, his legs long and spread out as if to...
1. I’m not eating again. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s making me sick again. And my limbs feel like sand again, feel like hanging on the ends of puppet strings except no one is pulling them. That’s the problem: he’s not pulling them. So I wake up,...
Imagine Nichols Avenue, because Nichols is where we are headed. Granddad Alvarez does not take the usual Sunday scenic route: through downtown D.C., past the Lyndon B. Johnson White House and the sunburnt, sign-shaking Vietnam protesters. Instead, we hook a right from...
Author’s Note My heart is with the people of Turkey in the wake of this terrible news out of Istanbul. Writers always leave things out of their finished products, and in many cases, like the one that follows, they wring their hands about it. This was one of...
