Serial – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch 4

“Brady? Is that you?” Brady Bowers lifted his eyes from the can of soup he was holding when he heard his name. A wide, slow grin spread across his face as he saw the source. “Lexi!” He returned the can to the grocery store shelf to give her his full attention. “You’re back in town?”…

Book Review – Stay With Me

Stay With Me is the eloquent debut novel of Nigerian writer Ayobami Adebayo. In a mere 260 pages, this historical fiction must-read not only features romance, sex, and murder, but does so while tackling politics, race, and gender, resulting in a stunning portrayal of life, particularly of marriage, in post-colonial, post-Biafran Nigeria. The novel’s protagonist,…

Microwork – My Mother’s Shadow

My Mother’s Shadow My mother says the Main Line like it means something To someone other than herself, or maybe That’s just me; I Don’t speak the language of the past Evelyn Benvie is a queer writer who’s just trying to get by, pay the bills, and find time to work on that novel. (You…

Issue 12.2 – Nonfiction

Since Taylor Swift’s debut album, I’ve always felt a certain kinship with her. With every song she releases, I can’t shake the feeling that she just gets me. Her first album came out when I was a freshman in high school, and for the past ten years, each album has met me exactly where I…

Issue 12.2 -Fiction

They called him Ole, but Betty knew it was an alias. None of the agents who fell from the sky in parachutes used their real name. It didn’t matter. He was the boy from the stall, and he was here, seated on her kitchen bench opposite her brother, accepting the heavy crystal bowl she handed…

Issue 12.2 – Poetry

There is this feeling – perhaps it is regret – when I find old transit cards and other relics of my former urban self here and there, tucked away   like the old metal folding cart I used to lug groceries to my apartment now languishing in the garage; each square of its grid, a…

Serial – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch 3

The banging of pans in the kitchen woke Lexi Jones from a deep sleep. Suddenly panicked, she reached for her phone and checked the time. Six twenty. She still had ten minutes before her alarm went off. Groaning, she pulled herself away from the warmth of her bed, and trudged to the bathroom across the…

Microwork – Notes On My Typewriter

Notes On My Typewriter My typewriter jams every time I try to compose the words that are inside my chest, the only words you have not yet managed to take. It’s summer, brilliantly blue skies and hot sun that makes my skin feel like it’s peeling and while everyone else is outside, soaking up this…

Issue 12.1 – Nonfiction

I was the last person to see him alive. It was a typical Friday night. All of my friends were at the football game, and I was working my usual shift at Burger King. Somehow I was the one poor kid in my peer group that had to work, it wasn’t just for character building….

Issue 12.1 – Fiction

I remember peering around the doorway watching each plate shatter, splintering into a ceramic snowstorm at the hands of my mother. For some reason my memory has omitted the sound. I see her mouth open wide, her eyes and nose dripping. I see the droplets merging with the flying debris as she furiously throws her…