Two teenagers are living in my house this summer, and neither has read The Catcher in the Rye. They’ve taken over the basement, binge-watching shows on Netflix and referring to Instagram as
“Ah, so you’ve had an ordinary life,” she said.
[Previously on... Part 5 | Part 4 | Part 3 | Part 2 | Part 1]
the defining experience of Western women today is internal conflict
I am a woman of discipline, which is to say: I don’t act at random. But I once slept with a mindreader on a whim.
He was like, "Everyone knows what racoons like to do."
What an asshole.
I had runoff all over. I hadn’t escaped the heartland.
This has to stop— / you're a year dead. I shatter the mirror // with a glare, pace the hall carpet, / but others arrive by dawn, agitated // by thuribles, syllables scattered from / pulpits, daughters buttoned into pastel.
Lydia! What the heck is the hold up? How long does it take to throw a rope over a branch?
In 2011, while addicted to heroin, I briefly delivered pizza for Zeppe's, a chain restaurant in rural Northeast Ohio.
We are launching a new project, HOBART HANDBOOKS, the first project of which is our Handbook on Baseball, collecting some of our favorite pieces from our last thirteen years of online baseball
On the night during which the events of this essay took place—August 8th, 2003—the San Francisco Giants beat the Philadelphia Phillies 9-1. Barry Bonds hit a home run, yes, his 648th...
The story goes that Mario is Luigi’s brother. Nearly all we know about him is that he is a brother.
I heard about what happened last week.
Oh yeah, that was just—
It wasn't right. I'm really sorry about that.
His family was there. My family was there. My bouquet was made of flies.
Authors in Flash Fiction International
from the U.S., Mexico, Israel, New Zealand, India, Australia, and Brazil
respond to questions
Watching the blood drain was the moment she knew/ that she didn’t have it figured out."
Okay, now -- I'm going to tie this end to the box. Lydia, throw the other end over our tree. Gilly, stand guard over the box.
