Ed Hopper Train Painting

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The Taxidermist and the Baker

By Molly Reid

The baker’s skin, burnished from the heat of very hot ovens, is soft but taut. The taxidermist likes to pretend when she’s fondling the baker that she’s fondling an hourglass. The hourglass. What determines the duration of all activities, provides a semblance of order and congruity and meaning. God’s hourglass. “You smell like sugar,” the…

With a Glistening Rush

By Ruth LeFaive

Five of us dodge the storm in Tammy DeLuca’s bedroom, even Kevin, who stays dressed. One at a time, we lie back, spread-legged and flustered, approximating grit. Here, Tammy directs a ray of light between Maggie’s legs, is the birth canal. We see only skin and the wand Tammy won from the county fair, its…

March Flash Roundup

By Deirdre Danklin

Prisms In my MFA workshops, sometimes, when something felt clunky or not-quite-right, someone would say, “is this just a device?” and my first thought would be: everything is a device. Life is a device. The key is hiding it. When writing, we have to use tricks without seeming to. Devices that feel natural, like the…


By Tucker Leighty-Phillips

over the parking lot of Aldi’s. They bustle to snag unattended shopping carts, return them to the carousel, accept the quarter deposit from the locking mechanism. They position themselves like athletes or secret service agents, waiting for an old blue-hair to leave her cart in the parking spot as she pulls out to head home.…


By Thaisa Frank

I’m in Flamineo’s trailer when we hear the ringmaster yelling that the fire-eater left to marry his high school sweetheart.  We’re in bed, pretending I’m a stranger in the audience and Flamineo’s guessing my name.  The ringmaster must knock three times before we pick our way over Flamineo’s sorcerer’s hats and the snake costume I…

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