Robert Edward Sullivan
Ebbing

Robert Edward Sullivan - Ebbing

Fiction
Robert Edward Sullivan is from the Midwest (Iowa and Michigan) but now lives in Oregon. He holds an MFA from… Read more »
Leslie Anne Jones
Foreigner Manager

Leslie Anne Jones - Foreigner Manager

Fiction
Leslie Anne Jones was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska. Dark winters, big glaciers, neighborhood moose—all that stuff. She spent… Read more »
Dan Malakoff
Standstill

Dan Malakoff - Standstill

Fiction
Dan Malakoff’s short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Pleiades, Prick of the Spindle, The Long Story, Ellipsis, River… Read more »
Therese Borkenhagen
The Amazon

Therese Borkenhagen - The Amazon

Fiction
Therese Borkenhagen is a freelance writer and translator from Oslo, Norway. She completed her BA and MA in English Literature… Read more »
Maxine Rosaler
The Girl from Texas

Maxine Rosaler - The Girl from Texas

Fiction
Maxine Rosaler’s fiction and nonfiction has appeared in or is scheduled to appear in The Southern Review, Glimmer Train, Witness,… Read more »
Scott Sikes
The Widow’s Daughter

Scott Sikes - The Widow’s Daughter

Fiction
This is Scott Sikes’ first published work. He is thrilled and also keeping his day job, which he loves. He… Read more »
Nick Almeida
Watchdog

Nick Almeida - Watchdog

Fiction
Nick Almeida is an MFA candidate at the Michener Center for Writers in Austin, Texas. He holds an MA from… Read more »

The Amazon

Therese Borkenhagen

There is a photograph of my mother as she stands in front of Evenes Airport. On the back she has scribbled, in round and swirly letters, April 26th 1979. She wears a black turtleneck sweater and a brightly colored skirt. Her hair is dark and thick, folding neatly on her shoulders. In other pictures from when she was young, her hair reaches all the way down to her lower back. I assume she’s just had it cut before moving to Oslo—some idea of big city life perhaps. She wears eye makeup as dark as her hair, and under her heavy lids, two eyes shine with anticipation. Her lips are pale and almost invisible against that translucent skin. She carries the large leather bag I’ll inherit one day. This is the last photo before the city changes her—makes her hard. Makes her my mother.

On April 26th, 1986, exactly seven years after she moves to Oslo, I am born with a bang. To my mother’s disappointment, my birth is overshadowed by the explosion of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in the former Ukrainian SSR. Two people die in the explosion, twenty-nine die in the hospital, and a suspected million will… Read more »