Make Believe by Don J. Rath

Tonight I’ve got to go to the truck stop off East 80 because Tommy’s mom kicked me out of her house again, and I haven’t eaten for two days except what I stole from the fridge before I left, a half loaf of week-old Wonder bread and an opened can of tuna fish. I want one of the other boys to go with me, but they keep saying no, except Tommy, who won’t answer my texts because his mom convinced him that this time I really did take her wedding ring, the one from the second husband. 

Skin Stretch by Umaima Munir

In mid-December, I wake up during my commute when the elderly man pushed against me hacks his throat out and I feel the droplets from his mouth fly dangerously close to my eye. He lets out another wet cough. My breath shortens, and as my vision comes to in a haze of sanitized beige and white, a lump builds up in my throat and pushes its way up through my mouth and a barely suppressed cough flies out of me.

Beyond Beyond Beef Mountain by Rick Swenson

Earth: Year 2604

In the 2060s, the super-wealthy left Earth to populate the Moon and Mars, leaving the poor and working class behind. Today, Earth’s population stands at around 50,000 people. The uber-wealthy technocrats were kind enough to leave Earth’s remaining citizens with a miracle food source: Beyond Animals.

Buoy by Charlinda Banks

The thing about landsickness is that it only leaves you when you’re underground so deep that your feet aren’t trying to be parallel and running anymore. It’s a particularly tough affliction for me because I was born with my feet twisting outward. The kid doctors at Bellevue always joked that I’d make a good ballerina, but mom took one look at my duck ankles and shot the statement down. Not with those flat things, she said.

The Green Flash by Jennifer Walker

That first night there was just the second-to-second scramble to survive stretching time and sucking it down the distorted vortex of trauma. Only in the morning did the women speak.

“I hate you,” Molly said.

“Yeah, okay,” Charlotte said.

Nightmare by Kevin Camp

1.

The young man was on the aircraft, halfway home, before he realized what had happened.

The Reclaimed Body by S.J. Ladds

The man who raped me was scared of snakes.

He slid into my booth with a forked tongue and slanted eyes, sandy hair slicked back tight to his skull and glistening with gel. Pointed at a group of men shooting conspicuous glances over their shoulders and told me they’d dared him to approach the most beautiful girl in the bar with a line about the snake in his pants.

Hindsight by Stephen K. Kim

When I moved into his apartment, I did not know that my love for him had already evaporated. Each morning, he strode across the kitchen’s chilly tiled floor, all broadness and sharp angles, smooth alabaster face, small cobalt eyes, clothed only in a bathrobe and arrogance

LET THE DAY BE BEAUTIFUL by Jack Sullivan

Other bodies. Other bodies, next to mine. Not asleep, no. That’s what they’d like me to think. They’d like me to think the others are asleep. But they’re not. I know this. I know this like I know I’m awake. How do I know I’m awake? I just do. You just know you’re awake.

#SingleOtter by Thomas Kearnes

Mrs. Larue wasn’t satisfied. Lichen fidgeted, felt the room’s dry heat, a presence no less blunt than his probation officer’s scowl. She wanted answers: why hadn’t he completed any community service hours; where was his AA attendance card;

i’m still here. by Natalie Chan

There’s a heart-shaped hole cushioned in between the seats of Alan’s couch. I put a finger in and count - 10, 20, 25, 35, 85 cents. Strings of thread are caught under my nails, stretching across the gap, interweaved. I tug at them and watch them snap.

Listen to me! Breathing through your ears by Charly Murmann

I woke up, this morning. This morning I wake up. One part of my body wakes up, in the living room of my sibling. The other part of muscles are ghosts. Some fragments of articulation are just pain bouncing through the flesh, which is empty and blank.

The Face and the Heel by J.S. Crawford

I press My Lover's face into the mat and watch as the blood pumps out of the cut on his forehead. The opening bell still rings in my ears. The crowd cheers in a way that can only be described as bloodthirsty. He’s screaming and I know he loves it. The cameramen wheel around the ring like spirits haunting my every move.

The Typical Middle School Experience by Ryder Smith

Roe and Bowen stand just outside of their middle school’s entrance, having their first real argument as a couple. Roe is angry about something trivial and childish that his new boyfriend, Bowen, did. Bowen feels sheepish and meek in the presence of his new boyfriend.