Porches and Population by Jordan Brunelle

“Why do you think we like porches so much?” Ash said, moments before his death. “Um—the swings and the chairs. And the view,” I said. Ash stared blankly forward. “No.” They started coming around midnight the night before, The Feeders did. That’s what they were calling them on the news and on the radio all…

Two Poems by Nancy Woo

What Are You I hold my nose and fish my sister’s friendship ring out of the toilet because, at 9, I sense that we need that kind of thing to face what probably smells like shame. We have the same bone structure. She bites harder than I do, but we are both aliens. Starchildren, if…

Two Poems by Carol Berg

A Field Guide to Sorrows: The Lascaux Woman What else with my endless time but the gnarled naming. I dislike this job sometimes so many sorrows in my mouth. Little blue darlings. I burst their skin under my canine teeth. He is so eager with his gifts of habitat of range. Description: Crunch of Eyes Turning Away. Description:…

The Man in the Buddha Tee-Shirt by Barry Spacks

He’s a big good-looking fellow, the Man in the Buddha Tee-Shirt. No day will pass when he’d consider failing us, Buddha-wise. Each midnight he washes the tee-shirt in question in sink suds, then wrings it out, supplies a garment-snap producing water mist — satisfying moment —  the tee then stretched out flat on a thick towel to dry, at morning…

Hallow/Hallowed Flash Fiction Contest Winners!

We have the winners for our 2013 Hallow/Hallowed Flash Fiction Contest! Stephen Graham Jones let us know that it was a crazy tough decision since all the stories were so spectacular, but here are the top three: First: “The Rising Son” by Gordan White Second: “Not Finding our Hallowed Mam” by Douglas Bruton Third: “Extraordinary…

Tenderloin Blues by Kevin Ridgeway

The rain is slamming the one window of my thirteen-dollar a night hostel room as I gaze over the scum-ridden street watching all of the homeless people I naïvely gave all of my spending money to.  My final meal left with forty-eight hours to go is staring at me from the dresser: a deflated chalupa…

BFFs by Dennis Milam Bensie

Backpack: check. Key: check. Nightgown: check. Take a deep breath – time to go to Amber’s. The floors are very creaky. Careful not to wake Mom while I sneak out of the house. Fuck me. There’s a car parked in front of Mom’s car, and another one parked behind it! That means I gotta parallel…