thwack

thwack

THE OREGON TRAIL by Mike Itaya

THE OREGON TRAIL by Mike Itaya

Mike ItayaTHE OREGON TRAIL 1884 Today I am eleven years born! We McClelland Family, Pa, Ma, Sis, and me (plus Joseph, our Mormon frontier scout), strike out from Independence, Missouri. The Oregon Trail is bright before us, our ox-pulled Conestoga…

BIOLUMINESCENCE by Sara Mae

BIOLUMINESCENCE by Sara Mae

Sara MaeBIOLUMINESCENCE The pregnancy scare skulks through bay grasses. It tips us over like cows & drains our peach liqueur. Flashlights under the bleachers illuminating grope & teen & tooth & wick, a stick rattling the jellyfish to yield shine.…

SURVIVOR GUILT by Melody Wilson

SURVIVOR GUILT by Melody Wilson

Melody WilsonSURVIVOR GUILT My sister slept in the laundry room, the door fastened by a cinch strap and a nail. She painted the cinderblock walls purple. Some nights tires would slide into the gravel drive and it was my job…

FLOUNDER by Tom Laichas

FLOUNDER by Tom Laichas

Tom LaichasFLOUNDER i The fingertips know things. Their ridged whorls …. confess… the … whole.. body’s whereabouts. The fingernails know things too, and knew them even before the teeth. ii The left hand arrives like a visitant, held one arm’s length…

MODERNA by Nikolaj Volgushev

MODERNA by Nikolaj Volgushev

Nikolaj VolgushevMODERNA My shoulder hurt a lot after the second dose and the following morning I found a thorny vine had sprouted from beneath the Band-Aid. It clambered down my upper arm in an emerald coil. I drove back to…

NIGHTS WHEN I’M TIRED by Peter Amos

NIGHTS WHEN I’M TIRED by Peter Amos

Peter AmosNIGHTS WHEN I’M TIRED Mom fell asleep around Labor Day that year and the slumber was deep. Dad bagged the recycling, drove to school on weekdays, spread his papers across the living room floor in the afternoons, and asked…

THOUSAND-WATT SMILE by Kathryn Silver-Hajo

Kathryn Silver-HajoTHOUSAND-WATT SMILE Sara nearly dropped the peeling tin box of Grandpa Teddy’s things when she pulled out the yellowed, cracked black and white of Grandma Bea sitting on the wheel hub of their ‘38 Chevy, chubby ankles crossed. Sara…

THANKSGIVING BIRD by Suman Mallick

THANKSGIVING BIRD by Suman Mallick
In the first sentence, "Jay, his stepfather—who was nice enough, if not a little too subservient"--does it seem like the 'not' isn't needed? In other words, the meaning is that Jay IS a little too subservient, so it should say "nice enough, if a little too subservient." Should we query the author on this?

LAB RAT VENGEANCE by Sarah Schiff

Sarah SchiffLAB RAT VENGEANCE In the neuroscience lab where I worked as an undergraduate intern, we were studying what makes mice experience the sensation of fullness. You can just imagine who’d want access to those findings—the know-how to regulate people’s…

NAMED by Alex Juffer

In the 1st section, 3rd sentence: "In fact, I would have swung for the gut, stole his air so he had to collapse into me." --Grammatically, this should be "stolen," but the author may have chosen the more colloquial "stole." Query? Also in the 1st section, 4th paragraph, I fixed the em dash to make it consistent. In the last section, first paragraph, I'm having second thoughts about this line: "with a first name and last initial like a partial staking. An object, a tool, more stamp than identity." Staking or stalking? I think "staking," as in a claim, but want to make sure.  

AN UNFULFILLED DREAM by Anika Pavel

AN UNFULFILLED DREAM by Anika Pavel

Anika PavelAN UNFULFILLED DREAM Through the COVID-19 lockdown in spring 2020, people were buying everything in sight. During a visit to my local supermarket, the empty shelves were familiar. In my youth, in communist Czechoslovakia, empty shelves were a norm,…

cleave. by Courtney Elizabeth Young

cleave. by Courtney Elizabeth Young

Courtney Elizabeth Youngcleave. Here are the ways I have heard it happens: in bed, waking to wheezing, breathing in loose clumps lining your pillow. Out with friends, falling into your Cobb salad, your Pinot. In the pool, raking waters in…

manic / depressive by Savannah Slone

Savannah Slonemanic / depressive i only exist in spectrum extremes floating amongst personality binaries hard cut offs…….. prescription intimacy learning to top the in betweens dusting for my own fingerprints in a house made up entirely of stained glass ………………………of…

NITS by Marsha Blitzer

NITS by Marsha Blitzer

Marsha BlitzerNITS The native mums told me it was inevitable, ……………………………………………………..nobody’s fault. ………………..In the changing room ………………………..……………………………they swapped ………………..uniform jumpers and caps. Soon I saw my sons scratching their skulls. ………………..Sesame seeds, each louse ……………………………………………………..had claws attached to hair ………………..where…

THE SKULL by Marc Tweed

Marc TweedTHE SKULL Marv. Teenagers found him washed up on the sand, bloated and bright in his favorite Hawaiian shirt. A crowd gathered and called the police, but not before those who found him took his wallet, wedding ring, car…

Shelter by Esther Ra

Esther RaSHELTER Every evening before we climb into the car, I tap the hood politely, and wait for the street cats to leap out underneath—gray cloudbursts of mist- matted fur, supple flash of muscle and sinew. Even in the winter,…

SMALL CONSOLATION by Diana Rickard

Diana RickardSMALL CONSOLATION you make an offering to posterity  ghastly aesthetic cauterizes the virile  there is a corniness to the late wave and you absorb  because of resemblance  because of what drifts  and sifts through the sieve  all of it …

NIGHT VISION by Kim Magowan and Michelle Ross

Kim Magowan and Michelle RossNIGHT VISION They were cooling off in Amanda’s pool—three women submerged to their necks. With the moon behind them and in the ungenerous glow of the stringed lights on Amanda’s porch, Amanda’s and Louise’s faces were…

MICE by Meg Pokrass and Rosie Garland

Meg Pokrass & Rosie GarlandMICE The cork shoots out of the bottle, bounces off the wall and loses itself behind the sofa. Don’t bother, she says. It’s too late. He’s already clasping the curved arm of the Chesterfield and trying…

GIRL ON FIRE by Courtney Thorne-Smith

Courtney Thorne-SmithGIRL ON FIRE She is bent over the sink. The ends of her long dark hair dip in and out of the bubbles as she circles the sponge slowly over the already clean pan. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Nothing,”…

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