Fiction
Jake Weber learned to speak Korean and to love literature during six otherwise wasted years in the Marine Corps. Afterwards,…
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Fiction
Jordan Farmer is originally from Logan, West Virginia, and is currently a Ph.D. student studying creative writing at the University…
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Fiction
Michelle Donahue is a current MFA candidate in Creative Writing & Environment at Iowa State where she was the managing…
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Fiction
Damon Barta once lived in a place where he could see for miles in every direction. He now lives safely…
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Fiction
Terrance Manning, Jr., is a graduate from Purdue’s MFA program in Creative Writing (2014). Recently, he received 1st place in…
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Nebraska, This One’s For You
Fiction
Claire Seymour is a student living in Brooklyn, New York. Her writing has appeared in Thistle Magazine, and is forthcoming…
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Fiction
Danielle LaVaque-Manty lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Her fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train, The Alarmist, Punchnel’s, Great Lakes Review,…
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Fiction
Michael Compton is a screenwriter from Memphis, Tennessee. His poetry and prose have appeared in African American Review, Forge, The…
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Fiction
Victor Walker is a former university professor and a full-time writer. His short stories have appeared in New Black Voices,…
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Fiction
Jennifer Bryan grew up in Spokane, Washington. She received an MFA from Bowling Green State University and a PhD in…
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Jordan Farmer
When I arrived, Edmund was already out on the front porch haloed in the light coming through his screen door, smoke billowing up from his beard as he puffed his pipe. I parked the Mercury beside the gate and waited while he descended the steps on his cane. For a moment, I thought he might trip in the yard where the grass had grown high. I hadn’t been over to mow it in a few weeks, and the leaves had collected in deep piles. The gold and crimson shriveled by several nights of frost that froze them off their branches. Edmund stumbled around them, his body swaying as if the ground shifted under his feet.
The scent of cherry tobacco filled the car as he climbed inside. From the dark half-moons under his eyes, I guessed he might have managed an hour of sleep.
“What did Sally say?” he asked as I drove out of the hollow, the mountains opening wide and the curving road leading to better asphalt, a straighter route as we approached the dark ribbon of the interstate.
“Just that they called family in.”
“What if they don’t let us see him?” he said.…
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