I nearly killed a boy named Jonathan Pilby when I was fifteen. If that nosy jogger hadn’t found his busted bloody body under the bridge…
Sophie Rosenblum: We’re delighted to have you judging our contest this year. What are you reading these days? Is there anyone on your radar our…
I couldn’t see over the dashboard when we hit it, but my father described it as a red flash sucked beneath the beam of his…
Murphy’s piece (view here) takes an unexpected event—the death of the fox—and uses it to reveal several different elements of human nature in the story’s…
By starting in media res, this piece (view here) asserts a kind of familiarity with readers. However, it skillfully weaves in elements of backstory, ensuring…
I didn’t really know the girl, so I’m not as sad as I should be. And anyway, time makes things blurry. There are people who’ll…
The tide washed in on their legs. It curled and broke over their knees then receded and soaked into the sand. Scott sat with his…
Owens’s piece (view here) explores the sublime, considering the emotional relays between beauty and terror and the contrast between an expansive natural world and a…
The oft-mumbled misanthropic curse, “fucking people” is transformed beautifully in Morgan’s piece (view here). He imagines a world in which sexual intercourse overcomes people in…
Two people fucking on a table, near a professional building. A person fucking near a bayou. Three really big people in a car, fucking to…