We are a world awash with conspiracy theories, but what resides in the hearts of those behind the actual conspiracies? In her flash fiction piece, “Wind on the Moon,” Katie Burgess explores the internal struggle of a governmental doctor of spin.
In “Restoration” (Carve), Ann Joslin Williams shows how a widower’s memories and the discovery of a dead body conflate in the present moment, to dramatic effect.
In “The School Bus Driver,” Souvankham Thammavongsa asks not how a love triangle begins or ends, but how it can continue for so long.
But that’s the difficulty—for the narrator and for us. We can’t answer the question what we did without also answering who we were.
When someone is faced with a life or death situation, principles that in quieter times appeared self-evident can become much more difficult to hold.
In “Freedom,” Rachel Cusk explores the difficult task of attaining independence, both from the perspective of those who already have it and those who do not.
In modern society, what often constitutes progress is the dulling elimination of those instinctual parts of our being that aren’t beholden to conscious thought—say, our hard-wired physical and emotional responses. In “The Howler” (Permafrost) LaTanya McQueen explores the potentially redemptive nature of those impulses that lay beyond our control.
An encounter with the unexplainable can evoke awe, terror, confusion, denial—a whole spectrum of emotions. In “Float” (The Georgia Review), Reginald McKnight explores how a young narrator deals with encountering the unexplainable in his own home, and what ramifications that has for our society at large.
One person’s trash is another’s treasure. This is often as true for prose as it is for yard sales: a character’s perspective and primary concerns compose the lens through which they see the world. The narrator of Seth Clabough’s, “Und So Weiter” (Blackbird), sees his past and future in a ghost ship drifting out to…
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