Fiction

Water slops over the edges of the bathtub as I quickly slough off the second skin of mud and leaves coating me. I’m inspecting my scrubbed pink body for birthmarks or scars, anything that might trigger a memory. I’m due…Read more

CHAPTER 1 Agnes, Philadelphia, March 2000  SUCH A PERFECT DAY FOR writing, gray and quiet. But nothing came to her. Not a sentence, not a phrase, not a word worth keeping. Her wastebasket was full. Her pile of index cards…Read more

  The prison is at the end of the District line, followed by a long bus ride. Its gentle woody green on the Underground map makes me feel safe, not like the Central red, which is brash and shrieks of…Read more

The rivalry began as a friendship between two boys with much in common. Both were third-generation grandsons of Croatian immigrants, and both were born and raised on “the Point,” as Point Cadet was known. Their families lived two streets apart.…Read more

CHAPTER 2  Miriam  1995  Blue mist clung to the mountains like a lace shawl. She’d figured they’d be gray—the Smokies. The blue of everything astounded her. She held up her right arm. The usual caramel of it was muted. All…Read more

Strange Fruit
SELECTION FROM

Strange Fruit

Lillian Smith

Ed finished the mullet, took a swallow of coffee from the thick hot cup, mopped his face. He laid a quarter on the counter, leaned toward Salamander—same old dried tobacco leaf he was five years ago—shouted in the old man’s…Read more

Day One: Two Months LaterVenice Beach International Hostel, Los Angeles  Empty bottles of Budweiser and paper plates stained with remnants of spaghetti Bolognese littered the corridors as Tommy made his way from his dormitory room to the hostel reception desk. …Read more