Part of our series of pieces inspired by the Democratic Party’s 2024 platform.
“We can recite the Preamble here,” my mother said.
“Who would hear us?” I asked.
“We can say it to the sky.”
(fiction)
Tag: Fiction
Part of our series of pieces inspired by the Democratic Party’s 2024 platform.
Her father had always believed in fairness, in giving people a hand up instead of—or maybe in addition to—a handout, in the kind of society where the strong should lift up the weak.
(fiction)
This is the first in our series of pieces inspired by the Democratic Party’s 2024 platform.
Unhappy with the garbage they were given, here they all came to exchange it for different garbage, and to perfume the warm December air with exhaust.
(fiction)
They stand in silence for a few minutes. Then his mother, in a whisper, exhales “shaman,” elongating the last syllable as if blowing cigarette smoke into the air.
(fiction)
On the last page of Eveline’s printed homicide story, she has scribbled, “The story might not follow the rules, but I got your attention, didn’t I? You’ll always remember me.”
In the morning, you paced the sand like you were trying to find stable ground. “I am in control,” I thought I heard you say. You did a meticulous job of packing up our tent.
(fiction)
Medellín is a dreamscape. It’s a parlor show best accompanied with multiple soundtracks. It’s part paradise, it’s part fevered hell, it’s all forms salvation.
(fiction)
He is free, Bexley thought, free enough to float on that breeze, rise and soar with seagulls if he wanted to.
(fiction)
My mother was certain my brother had planned his own death, but she wasn’t sure how he did it.
He wonders if his life has been a lie. Was he ever really a selenophile? Were the yearly parades a waste of time? The protests. The fights for equality.
(fiction)
