Michael Gray
A Memory of Hands

Michael Gray - A Memory of Hands

Mike Gray received his MFA from Florida Atlantic University in 2012 and currently serves as an English Instructor at Hazard… Read more »
Craig Buchner
American Metal

Craig Buchner - American Metal

Craig Buchner’s short stories have appeared in Tin House, Hobart, SmokeLong Quarterly, and other literary journals. Craig teaches writing and… Read more »
Joshua Idaszak

Joshua Idaszak - Aralık

Joshua Idaszak is from Washington, DC. He has lived and worked in Australia, Turkey, and Spain, and will be attending… Read more »
Justin Brouckaert

Justin Brouckaert - Charlevoix

Justin Brouckaert’s work has appeared in The Rumpus and Passages North, among other publications. He is a James Dickey Fellow… Read more »
Kate Lister Campbell
Free Swim

Kate Lister Campbell - Free Swim

Kate Lister Campbell lives with her husband in Brooklyn, NY, but is originally from Kansas City, MO. When not writing,… Read more »
Vincent Poturica

Vincent Poturica - Habte

Vincent Poturica lives in Gainesville, FL, but he will soon be moving with his soon-to-be wife to Long Beach, CA.… Read more »
Meng Jin
The Weeping Widow

Meng Jin - The Weeping Widow

Meng Jin was born in Shanghai, China, and now lives in New York City where she is an MFA candidate… Read more »
Landon Houle
When Trapped in a Car under Water

Landon Houle - When Trapped in a Car under Water

Born in Brown County, Texas, Landon Houle currently lives in South Carolina and works as an editor at In Fact… Read more »

Free Swim

Kate Lister Campbell

We could do things in water we couldn’t on land. We flipped our bodies like Easter eggs in bowls of vinegar and food coloring. We conducted orchestras with our toes. We begged our moms to take us every day. There were five of us that summer—me and Heather, my little sister; our neighbors, Emily and June Lee; and a smushed-faced boy from across the street, Matt, who we hated because he talked all day about science.

“Oysters and worms have three hearts,” he told us. It was a Tuesday in July. Tuesdays were free swim at Swope Pool. Everywhere we went had to be free, even though it was only a dollar-fifty to get in on regular days. It added up, my mom said. We were economizing, she said. Our moms had a whole schedule of free swims laid out for the days left until Labor Day. School was far away—last year long gone, next year not even a tiny sadness yet. The cicadas weren’t in the trees, though they would be in a week or two. My sister used to think the trees were breathing when the cicadas came to sing. She was little then, so we told… Read more »