because of Oxford by Amy J. Kirkwood
Hamster-cheeked girl – me, eight – and the pony Jet, standing side by side, my arms wrapped choke-hold around his neck (I loved him, I loved him). Smiling small enough…
Ellipsis Zine
Stronger Than Stitches, Stronger Than Glue by Joely Dutton
Lorna was eager to see Kris’ sleepy head still in bed, back at her flat. Her boyfriend had stayed the night and taken the day off work to wait there…
The Ring by Elyse Giaimo
“I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do when it happens,” I sob into the receiver. Her voice advises, unwittingly, “Just step out of the ring.” A common affliction in…
Pass Out Game by Tucker Leighty-Phillips
I walk down the stairs of the basement to see the boys playing the pass out game again. “You meddling boys,” I say to them, all stringy skateboard hair and…
Belly by Sonia Hope
Vanessa couldn’t believe her luck when Reggie asked her out. I’ll treat you to a Nando’s, he said. He drove her to the West End in a silver Volkswagen Golf…
The Summer I Turned Thirteen by Kim Magowan & Michelle Ross
It was the summer of secrets. My brother Mason, withdrawn and glassy, only appeared from his room at dinnertime, blinking. He had a new odor about him that made me…
Bryce by Dan Crawley
Bryce won’t turn on the air, not even the ceiling fan. It feels like the nineties inside his house. I want to open the sliding glass door, but my brother…
A Woman’s Curse by Christina Rosso
The first steps into the water are tepid and unfamiliar. The soles of her feet squish against the moss-covered rocks that line the sandy shoreline and the beginning of the…
On Crosby Beach by Helen Matthews
Your image evolves on my timeline, reminding me today is your birthday. In the photo, you’re wearing a sage-green shirt and I remember we cropped it to fit your Facebook…
Here Comes the Orange by Chris Milam
The color orange. As I stare intently at the flat-screen, my defeated eyes are searching for the only thing that matters, something that could turn lead into gold, or more…
Tethered by Ross Jeffery
Before I knew my father was right, I already had a son who thought I was wrong. I sit here. Contemplating the next steps. I voice my concerns, to everyone…
Mémoire Subterranéen by Jose Luis Oseguera
Her glossy, red lipstick fish-hooked the corner of my eye. Although her blond tresses were neatly restrained by a hairpin and a ponytail, a single lock dislodged itself free, as…