After Lilly by Douglas Light

August 2008 - Philip strolled, a coffee and newspaper in hand, and the smog from a Chardonequila hangover—Chardonnay-tequila shooters followed with a splash of Tabasco sauce—clattering about his head.

Plastic Jade by Laura McCullough

July 2008 - Melissa didn’t think anything about Boone at all, but she smiled at him. She ducked her eyes, looking away the way men like a girl to do. In the years she’d been in this brothel, she’d learned a lot about what men want.

The 24-Hour Date by Lisa Lim

July 2008 - Acorns began to fall from the sky and slapped him with the ferocity of bullets in a gang shooting. I told him he could boast of hickies on his neck on his second date. I grew suddenly hot and wanted to masturbate in the woods hysterical naked.

Korean Enough: Alexander Chee on New Korean American Fiction

June 2008 - When I became a writer, I had a single aesthetic ideal: to write stories as complicated as I knew the world to be. As a teacher of creative writing now, it’s been disturbing to me to watch some of my most talented young students in the last two years, young writers of color, turn to the writing of science fiction, where they invent worlds without the ethnic troubles of our own. Something, somewhere, is going wrong, and when I urge them to write about their own ethnicities, they look at me as if I’m speaking to them in something like Korean.

Burial (from a novel-in-progress) by Catherine Chung, Guest-Edited by Alexander Chee

June 2008 - She was limp and sweaty but I snuggled into the comfortable softness of her. They had cut her open, and she was whole. She looked very tired and sick; on her gown, blood bloomed like a slow flower.

Gwangju (from a novel-in-progress) by Elaine H. Kim, Guest-Edited by Alexander Chee

June 2008 - Smoke lingered in the air but I knew it wasn’t the smoke I was reacting to. Hundreds of feet thundered by, some in sneakers and socks, others in heavy, lace-up boots. We were in a storm of bodies, arms, and legs pumping here and there, shouts and chants interspersed with cries of rage and screams of pain. I

NOGM (from a novel-in-progress) by Jin Young Sohn, Guest-Edited by Alexander Chee

June 2008 - He responded to my Craigslist posting fairly quickly. Age, location, and phone number—he was strictly business. I was hesitant about meeting him, but he kept saying, Nothing has to happen. It doesn't have to if you don't want it to. We'll go somewhere well-lit. C’mon.

Tube of Thunder by Amanda Nazario

June 2008 - Mike is irresistible—a skinny guy with worried eyebrows. He likes to hustle poker, does not own a TV, and carries a handkerchief around for his allergies. His apartment is directly under Hellgate Bridge; he gets it cheap because a train shakes the building six times a day.

How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone An excerpt from the novel by Sasa Stanisic

May 2008 - You didn't have a real grandpa, Aleksandar, only a sad man. He mourned for his river and his earth. He would kneel down, scratch about in that earth of his until his fingernails broke and the blood came.

The Machine Edda An excerpt of a novel in progress by Zachary Mason

April 2008 - First they see the pale tendrils of steam rising up and then the gleaming cantilevered roof and then they are pulling up their wagons before the refinery, which is like a haphazardly assembled aluminum pagoda set into the high wall that marks the boundary of the kingdom Mnemosyne.

The Loves of Mao by Jane Wong

April 2008 - Mao loves to swim. Beside Li-Min’s bed, above her nightstand, there is evidence. A yellowing newspaper clipping displays Mao Tse-tung’s perfectly round head and shining eyes, bobbing brilliantly out of the Yangtze’s dark waves.

All That is Solid By Susan Daitch

April 2008 - Can you imagine the static electricity produced by a turned on giant gorilla?

Something So Nice for Nobody by Amy Brill

April 2008 - Last year sucked for everybody, except maybe Jackie, who found true happiness with Carlene. He moved out just after Labor Day, leaving a bunch of stuff behind and promising to help me out with rent until I could figure things out

Two Short-Short Stories By Laura van den Berg

February 2008 - Before coming to the Amazon, she had heard stories about Jacques Gallant, whispers from female scientists at zoology conferences, always about a colleague-of-a-colleague who had been seduced by Jacques underneath a jungle canopy or in a mountain cave.

You Don't Say By Elizabeth Koch

February 2008 - I reached across the table and scooped pasta out of his bowl, ate it with my hands. He sighed. “You have tomato on your chin.”

The Noticers (Novel Excerpt) By Elizabeth Kadetsky

January 2008 - When the heat comes I have to get out. I live on the top floor of a tenement walk-up, a flat filled to clutter with the detritus of a lifetime in New York City, my belongings packed so tight they seem to sweat and absorb all that’s breathable from the still air and deprive me of oxygen when I try to sleep. Such is the heat wave untempered by air conditioning. I haven’t slept in nights.

Join the Club By Geoff Kirsch

January 2008 - Thus began my fascination with Holden Caulfield. Not the Holden Caulfield, archetypal anti-hero of American arts and letters, not to mention inspiration for some of our better-read assassins. I’m talking about Holden Caulfield Sapperstein, an all-too-real young lady whose parents named her, for better or worse, after their favorite author’s infamous creation.

When Rain Hits This City Already Floundering By A. Igoni Barrett

January 2008 - The sergeant dealt him a series of rapid-fire slashes across the face with his whip, and then dragged him to the edge of the flooded pit. He let go of him and stepped back a pace. His face had regained its humanity. "Roll in the mud, you shit," he said, calmly.

The Papermaker By Benjamin Rybeck

January 2008 - The young man was having a cigarette on the street corner, feeling just about ready to get on with his day, when a man with a Clark Gable moustache and a shaved head leaned out his second story window and called down, “Hey you."

A Person of Interest (a novel excerpt) By Susan Choi, Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - Everything as it always was, day after day, until the thunderous boom.

Two Films (a novel excerpt) By Ernesto Mestre-Reed, Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - As the projector unexplainably kept on rolling even after the house lights went up and the medics made their way to the front, some, apparently to the filmmaker’s credit as an artist and perhaps his detriment as a person, continued to watch and even laugh at the hazy antics on the screen.

Ball Game (a novel excerpt) By Gabriela Jauregui, Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - He should have been thankful that Xavi died when their friendship was still intact, still unconditionally generous, as strong as their youthful athletes' muscles, as stubbornly perfect.

You’re My Only Home (a novel excerpt) By Jay Caspian Kang, Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - The mirror needs to be hung up at a height of 18 feet. The four-foot stepladder we borrowed from the Weisses comes up nine feet short, and climbing the low-hanging branches has not been as easy as I first imagined. The bark leaves a slippery residue on my palms and the needles tear away as easily as leper hair.

Atmospheric Disturbances (a novel excerpt) By Rivka Galchen, Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - Those phrases, something has changed, just need to get away, personal vacation, were not really my words but TV words, movie words, pollen in the air.

456 Victoria (a novel excerpt) By Bex Brian, Guest-Edited By Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - “I can’t study here." Karenne’s hand waved loosely over the room. Augati saw the whole shabby truth of her life. The coffee table: a door, the handle still on poking up through the magazines that concealed the rest, rows upon rows of old magazines, many with missing covers, many marked and marred by grease, spilled coffee, forgotten bubble gum. Even the pillow she had picked up when she joined Karenne was bald, and it stank.

Six Stories Guest-Edited by Francisco Goldman

November 2007 - I had already agreed to guest edit a selection of fiction for Guernica earlier this summer. Then, on July 24th, at the beach in Mazunte, Mexico, my wife Aura Estrada suffered a fatal swimming accident. Of course, along with...

Glass By Chad Simpson

September 2007 - “Just lie there,” he would say. “Pretend your hands are tied to the bed frame. Pretend you can’t move them.”

Nick’s Inferno (The twenty-seven notebooks of Nick Dante) By Laren Stover

September 2007 - Maybe I used to be innocent, before I was four, or five, before I stole Veronica’s silver dollars and lit fires. I sleep under God’s moon and God’s shooting stars and I swear if I see one tonight I will make a wish.

How to Rent a Hotel Room By David Stuart MacLean

September 2007 - I miss her. She had a way of walking out of a dressing room, when she was trying on pants that would take your breath away.

It's Not About the Dog By Susan Taylor Chehak

August 2007 - "How can you stand to live out here in the middle of nowhere, Iris?" she asks, as if this wasn't at one time her hometown too. She waits, but I am not going to play. She studies me. "Oh, I get it," she says. "You guys think you're safe.”

Cake by Glen Pourciau

August 2007 - A guy in a suit, I don't know him, walks by my cubicle holding one of the paper plates, his mouth full, chewing his last bite, folds the plate around his napkin and fork and cake crumbs, leans into my cubicle, reaches around a corner and stuffs the plate in my garbage can. No look, no excuse me, no nothing.

Babies by Amelia Gray

August 2007 - One morning, I woke to discover I had given birth overnight.

Jameson By Dave Englander, Guest-Edited by Sam Lipsyte

July 2007 - Jameson stayed silent for the rest of the ride, but secretly brooded over the fact that Rickter didn’t think he smiled enough. He smiled. That was something he did.

Warmish by Alex Waxman, Guest-Edited by Sam Lipsyte

July 2007 - What we heard wasn't wisdom. Friends made suggestions, dumb things. I didn’t hear them or listen. I snoozed on painkillers, lay on linen.

F=ma By Rebecca Schiff, Guest-Edited by Sam Lipsyte

July 2007 - The boy who knew the answers was very short, almost as short as me, a short girl. He had to shave every day early though—he was that kind of short. I’m the other kind, the kind that had to shave late. I did everything late. I’m still waiting for a lot of things to happen to me.

Coaches’ Night Out By Jeff Bender, Guest-Edited by Sam Lipsyte

July 2007 - And there we were—the three of us—me and Regan on either side, the ugly girl in the middle, bobbing up and down with the music, her hips buried in Regan’s crotch, her hands on my shoulders. I spread my arms out like an eagle.

Aide By Vivien Drabkin, Guest-Edited by Sam Lipsyte

July 2007 - Heartburn raced up her throat. Janet’s stomach bloated out in response. She felt her chest open and prepared to become a tunnel of God.

Four Stories Guest-Edited by Dawn Raffel

May 2007 - (photo by Bill Hayward) I am delighted to present the works of four writers whose originality, intelligence and emotional acuity I deeply admire. The stories I’ve chosen are quite different from one another, in large part because each of...

Messengers By Brad Zellar, Guest-Edited by Dawn Raffel

May 2007 - They'd been chosen for their stoic, no-nonsense demeanors. They weren't happy to be dead, and they'd all been taken quickly, violently, and much too young. None of them were much for conversation, but they found things to say to each other as they drove to and from assignments.

En Route By Victoria Redel, Guest-Edited by Dawn Raffel

May 2007 - See how quickly a story complicates.

By Artifice Do We Shut Ourselves Away From Night By Norman Lock, Guest-Edited by Dawn Raffel

May 2007 - I am playing the shepherd’s game with the Shepherdess far underground, by the secret lake, beneath a cyclorama on which, suitable to the evening hour, the blue of afternoon is deepening to plum, while, one by one, stars appear according to a lighting scheme designed by the hotel’s Electrician. When in the world, he lit the stage for Max Reinhart and other directors of German Expressionism. “Life is an illusion,” I tell the Shepherdess, my hand rummaging in her blouse.

The Missing Thing By Chris Waddington, Guest-Edited by Dawn Raffel

May 2007 - After a year, Phillip said they should try again. He told Muriel what she already knew—that such problems were all too common with first pregnancies. Pressing her hand, he repeated everything the doctors had told them.

Eminent Domain by John Michael Cummings

April 2007 - She turned and lifted her windbreaker in back to show me the 14-inch, priceless George Washington bayonet, stolen out of the history lab and notched down the back of her jeans, the dagger-like tip wedged down the crack of her butt. “Jesus,” I said, grinning, “You carried it like that?”

Tadpoles by Stephen Raleigh Byler

March 2007 - "We’re not firefighters,” Francis said. The skinny man laughed. “Did you hear that guys? They say they’re not firefighters,” he called to the other five men who hadn’t gotten up to greet us but were still sitting down, smoking and conversing. “Slater, you a firefighter?” The man who apparently went by Slater smiled. “Hell no.”

Buick by Beth Bosworth

March 2007 - "He asked that his ashes be dumped in the Gowanus," I told them all. I put the lid back on the urn very carefully. The woman in the red dress adjusted her sateen shoulder strap. The car salesman began dusting off his knees, then stopped. Little bits of my father could very well have been clinging there.

MENU By Iris Smyles, Guest-Edited by Frederic Tuten

December 2006 - You never expect a zombie to lean over and bite you, so you don't really notice it before it's too late and the zombie apocalypse has begun. If you knew, you could easily outrun the slow moving ones. You could just walk a little faster and you’d be fine. The way they get you is that you don’t know that they are coming.

Big Truck by Aurelie Sheehan, Guest-Edited by Frederic Tuten

December 2006 - Once you've been with a guy who has a big truck, there's no going back. It's depressing but true, it's like falling off a cliff. May as well just slit your wrists, dig a hole, and write the obituary.

Fashionable By Diane Williams, Guest-Edited by Frederic Tuten

December 2006 - Her face was too white and the skin was thickened and shadowed and defined by a deep rich pink luster and her house is filled with moquette furnishings.

The Cat's Meow By Shelley Jackson, Guest-Edited by Frederic Tuten

December 2006 - My daughter wears a jacket, like a book, but she is not a book, though she goes to the library. A book does not put other books under its jacket and walk away with them. My daughter tells me all the library books must be returned to the wood, and that is where she is taking them. She stacks them up into trunks and branches and tells them they are trees.

Birdsongs East of the Rockies By Lisa Nold, Guest-Edited by George Saunders

October 2006 - These sounds occupy many spaces, much like birds; there are the ones that rise upward and paint glorious arcs in the sky, and there are others that scale close to the ground or simply molt.

Important Men By Adam Levin, Guest-Edited by George Saunders

October 2006 - The important man had the kind of face that would look no different without the mustache.

Karate Kid By Eric Rosenblum, Guest-Edited by George Saunders

October 2006 - "I thought it was going to be about this kid who was really good at karate, but he wasn't. The kid wasn't good at anything."

Working Up to the Dragon by Chet Kozlowski

August 2006 - “But you know the craziest thing, Steven?” he said. “I think the dragon was loose. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks because of the fog, but I swear there wasn’t a line attached to it. It swooped around the others, and then — whoosh! — it was gone."

Sliding By by David Unger

July 2006 - Not surprisingly, Abie did well. If he had a talent, it was that he could sell anything to anyone: porn to a priest, whiskey to a teetotaler.

Instructions for Sinning by Franco Ferrucci

June 2006 - Arturo had been the second to emerge, so perhaps it was he who was the intruder.

Facial Geometry by Maureen Seaton, Kristine Snodgrass and Neil de la Flor, Guest-Edited by Terese Svoboda

May 2006 - I sat upright in the boat of freedom.

The Myth of Drowning by Dawn Raffel, Guest-Edited by Terese Svoboda

May 2006 - "She couldn't swim. Or cramps. Maybe undertow. The undertow was wicked."

6 excerpts from “In This Alone Impulse” by Shya Scanlon with illustrations by James J. Williams, Guest-Edited by Terese Svoboda

May 2006 - I’m down beneath it when a wood bump wakes me.

from The Body is Still Warm by Edie Meidav

April 2006 - Our love was probably less sexual than total, Californian in its appreciation of the other’s physical being, an annexation of identity.

Two Doctors by Terese Svoboda

April 2006 - Usually when you yourself want to scream what comes out is a whimper, a catch-in-the-throat kind of vocal.

Trip to Saigon by Kerri Smith

November 2005 - I tell myself I bought the painting as a souvenir, a memory in the French sense. But really it is my consolation for not finding out Amy’s name.

The Waves by Salar Abdoh

September 2005 - You didn't get trapped in the marshes on a moonless night and simply crawl your way back home.

Douglas by Karl Roloff

September 2005 - My wife and I were kick-ass archeologists.

An Excerpt from Tintin in the New World by Frederic Tuten

May 2005 - “You must find me very queer then, Madame Clavdia. I’m sorry if I disconcert you,” Tintin said, his voice low, his eyes downcast.

The Name of the Father by Jorge Volpi

May 2005 - Cowering behind an almost idiotic silence, I avoided looking into his eyes, gripped by the same fear that must have gripped Odysseus as he ran from the singular gaze of the Cyclops.

The Magic Box By Anna Lidia Vega Serova

May 2005 - She thought something bad was happening to her parents. She got up and walked barefoot to the curtain dividing the room in two.

Excerpt from The Emigrant’s Hand by Manuel Rivas

May 2005 - You could look from one end to the other, but for me there was only Castro’s hand, it held me in a hypnotic grip.

From New Hats for Alice 2 Stories by Julián Ríos

January 2005 - Are your recollections really recent or do they reflect a remote past? You feel as if time is not time on the clock, and an aura of unreality surrounds you.

From ‘foreign gods, inc.’ by Okey Ndibe

January 2005 - To be more specific, we own a Wolof god of justice and an Ewe goddess of fertility,”

Paying Dues and Drinking Booze by Tito Matamala

January 2005 - On the roofs of the city, the rain played its final concerto for piano and elephants, one rehearsed so many times before

Vital Information by Carlos Blanco Aguinaga

January 2005 - Since it is very hot out at sea, sometimes someone comes down with a little fever.

Ions by Germán Sierra

October 2004 - We sleep in sleeping bags on the beach, so in order to get close to you I have to slip out of mine first, then slip you out of yours.

Thirty-Seventh of Tales of The Nameless by Alimorad Fadie Nia

October 2004 - We went to a cafe I knew near the bookstore. I tried to please him by saying, they have excellent coffee here.