MM Schreier
by MM Schreier I shouldn’t have cared that Charles was getting married. I left him. People always say they were the one that did the leaving, but in this case, it was true. Still, it hurt. The situation was complicated. When he changed his Facebook status to “engaged,” I
Cody Schell
by Cody Schell
Matt Bliss
by Matt Bliss The tree talked to me. “I have something to tell you,” it said to me in a voice clearer than an August night in South Fork. I was only seven then, awkward with those pudgy little arms and fingers that scraped and bloodied against the bark that
Patrick Hurley
by Patrick Hurley The gray swallow rode the wind over wood and stream until it grew tired. It landed softly on the bare branch of a withered tree that stood alone in the midst of a smoking field. It took no notice of the red-haired shieldmaiden clad in gleaming
ART of the Solar System
by Cody Schell
Callum Rowland
by Callum Rowland I used to love hospitals. Being inside them. Their corridors and wards, as familiar as the veins crawling up my arm. The creaking leather chairs, womb-like in their enveloping. Used to invent symptoms just to go back, just to be surrounded by monitoring equipment and pious
Catherine Yeates
by Catherine Yeates Steam poured off the seared edges of the columns that littered the temple floor. Brother Anselzar stepped carefully through the wreckage, his long robes trailing over the rubble. The light of a dim and cloudy sky filtered onto the broken altar. Behind it, the obsidian statue of
by Dan Peacock Scott, I know this isn’t a good time for you, with the mysterious ultradimensional entities occupying most of downtown. But it’s not a good time for anyone. It’s taken me a long time to pluck up the courage to write this letter, but here
by Cody Schell © 2025 Cody Schell
by Vince Stadon “Now I'm gonna do what any rational human being would do, and that is to get the fuck outta here.” – Joel Irony. It was everywhere in the ‘90s – the culture was steeped in it. Back then, it wasn’t cool to just like things: you
Narrative, unbound
by Christopher Degni Bramblethwaite hadn’t expected the Chosen One to be so… greasy, but Chosen Ones came in all forms. He’d consulted the Oracle of Amatar multiple times; there was no chance of error. This young man holding a bag of Fritos in one hand and a Switch
by Elijah J. Mears I don’t know how long I’ve been looking for a way out—it feels wasteful to count the seconds here, at the end of time. But I know it must be there. In the depths of my heart, I know that you wouldn’t
by Cody Schell ART of the Solar System celebrates one year!
by Jo Berry Could I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art the summer and the day incarnate. Thy winds summon forth the herald aurorae And all worlds hail thy golden coruscate ate ate ate [—ate—] [—later, okay? I’m still trying to run this diagnostic. And can
by Jacob Baugher She comes back to the Carousel House in the blue evening, solitary on the Carolina seaside. Her black Samsonite makes looping tracks on the cold beach, dragging sand across the house’s threshold. She stays here sometimes when she needs refuge, pretends to be one with the
by R. K. Duncan Content warnings: Eugenics, infanticide, forced abortion, forced sterilization, torture. All exhibits marked CONFIDENTIAL URGENT ATTN: Diplomatic Committee; Ad-Hoc Sub-Committee for Generation Ship Response, Convened 344 AF, Planetary Commune of Jardin Exhibit 1: Statement of Abraham Helmangel, Captain, Glory of Falling Stars. Inclusion challenged; not
by Cody Schell
by Kara Dennison “There’s a difference,” said Dr. Burns, “between something being unkillable and something being unable to die.” I turned my eyes back toward the lozenge-shaped airplane window, keen to move us to something less existential. “Speaking of unkillable,” I segued, “they’ve come a long way
by Liam Hogan The orchard was merely a hundred trees. A hundred and twenty, counting the malus sylvestris—crab apples—that fringed the sides. “Why so many?” I asked, shivering in the February cold. Old crones made hedgerow jelly from the stunted apples, despite the wince-inducing tartness, despite their
by Gull Ditta The villagers called her Mehnaz, a name borrowed from the river that refused to keep her. She knew herself as a sequence of sensations: the prickle of dry earth between her toes, the pressure of a monsoon cloud, the shimmer of starlight caught in a still pond.
by Cody Schell
by Andrew Kozma I did not want to be attending the living memorial service for my mother, but there I was, the spiritual officer’s voice droning on like a TV left on in another room. My mother was in a coma, kept on life support for only pennies on