We Want Your Writing.

CategoryFiction

 

If We Clean, We Clean Each Other

You did an admirable job trying to hide your surprise when you opened the door and saw me standing there; most people blinked and glared or smiled too widely, looking like they’d lost their minds and were thinking of all the ways they’d like to murder me. But despite your …

Read More

 

Enclosure

The howl spilled into the library. Through the window, it swept the stacks like fog, spreading along the floor before lifting to the ceiling. Two younger men looked at each other. They laughed nervously. An older woman with no chin sat at one of the computers and slowly typed how …

Read More

 

Goodbye, Annie

It was too hot to be out, but no one complained because our good friend Annie was dead and we didn’t know how to talk about it. We sipped tall cans of sweet tea and ate unshelled peanuts, tossing their crepey husks in a vacant clay pot that once held …

Read More

 

We Might Forget, But the Fields Remember

Summer is two weeks deep and already itchy with boredom when I suggest we poke around the abandoned house in the field. The bromegrass is half the height of the car and bends in supplication, tips wispy like cobwebs when it brushes our arms. We wade carefully, afraid of broken …

Read More

 

Beneath the Skin

We were sitting by a stream that runs through a gulley beside my father’s apartment, when he began picking at his thumb. I let it go on for a bit, distracted and listening for my son playing off in the trees, but soon my father was gnawing at it, making …

Read More

 

Mahjong Tiles

When I arrived at my father’s apartment for dinner, something was wrong. Through his living room window, I could see Guangzhou’s Canton Tower across the street; the light show was beginning—the usual run-through of the colors of the rainbow. Inside, the ceiling fan whirred, and the smell of old newspapers …

Read More

 

Youth

I ran away with a girl one summer. We stole money from our parents and stuffed our things into a large backpack. Jacqueline had two pairs of jeans, a thin leather jacket, bras, her pairs of red espadrilles, assorted oversized sweaters, and toiletries. I put some shirts, pants, and underwear …

Read More

 

This is How I Used to Break

When I was twelve, my mother came home early from work one day and caught me sitting on the pantry floor, stuffing my face. Our house rule was I had to ask for food, but at school lunch, Josie—the mean girl in 7D—shouted that my fish sandwich was gross. Embarrassed, …

Read More

 

Your Son’s Good at Times Tables

I’m sorry, I really am. I know my general demeanor isn’t threatening (sad eyes, nose in book, phone that I neurotically check placed on the tray-table ), but still, I know I can’t look approachable. You’re traveling with your son, but you don’t look like a mum. There’re no lines …

Read More

 

Transitory

Dad comes home early from work, says he’s taking us out to dinner—not to our usual spot, but to one of those places where they bring you a box of tissues and a bottle of mineral water without asking—to celebrate his visa to America. His friend from Damascus will find …

Read More