The Boat Rocker

By Ha Jin
October 2016

Don’t smile like that. I’m telling you the truth.

Power Tools

By Marcy Dermansky
October 2016

They held hands. They put their feet in the water. I love him, Corey told herself.

Bird (on back)

By Odie Lindsey
July 2016

At daybreak, a bird flew into our bedroom, smacked the wall mirror, and fell on Darla’s back. She slept on.

The Tail of My Heart

By Claire-Louise Bennett
July 2016

You are not going out, he said. You haven’t been out for weeks. People have been in touch with you, he said. Why don’t you see them?


By Arthur Diamond
June 2016

Future of Cities: “Department of Buildings,” said Frank. “We have a complaint. Can we come in?”

Friend of the Indians

By Theodore McCombs
June 2016

The Future of Cities: “There are hundreds, perhaps a thousand empty villages in Spain like your Valdaves: abandoned, then forgotten. I find them new owners...”


By Akil Kumarasamy
June 2016

He doesn’t talk much about his life in Sri Lanka before the war, only after, as if in 1983 when everything ended for some Sri Lankan Tamils is when his life begins.

I Am A Rock

By Ricardo Nuila
June 2016

Whenever the latest woe is me commercial came on hawking the newest painkiller, Mami commanded our attention: “That’s me!”

Shut Your Mouth, Hélène

By Nuala O’Connor
May 2016

‘Keep your pecker in your pocket, Paddy,’ Jacques Aubry says, pointing at Mrs. Boyle’s swollen front, ‘and you’ll have less need for marching.’

Rutting Season

By Mandeliene Smith
May 2016

He lay in the dark, eyes closed, imagining what Lisa would say when she saw the gun. Would she beg?

Moscow Windows

By Mikhail Iossel
May 2016

An unimaginably endless life lay ahead of me, almost frighteningly so. Sometimes, when I thought about it, I became so agitated that I found it difficult to breathe.


By Andrew Ladd
May 2016

“My brave little Marxist,” she will coo, knowing that her own, modest attempts at domestic revolution will as usual come to nothing, and softening in spite of it.

Heat & Light

An excerpt from the novel by Jennifer Haigh
April 2016

Fortified with sock tea, he attends his morning group, which is called Steps. This to distinguish it from the afternoon group, which is called Group.


By Sofia Stambolieva
April 2016

Bulgarians are physical people. I discovered that when I left and came to New York.

Step In

By Zulema Renee Summerfield
April 2016

Here’s Jacob, in the grip of incomparable sorrow, being a total jaggoff to his friend. Insert interior monologue: What am I doing? When did I become such a dick?

A Bridged Country

By Xavier Navarro Aquino
April 2016

It wasn’t like we hadn’t grown accustomed to male wooers after Pa danced his way out of the picture, but something about Casero, that old bag, pissed me off.


By Swati Khurana
March 2016

Future of Language: WIFE!—who would not tolerate this complaint of his, who no longer indulged his talking, who could not even bear to look at him.

Snow Signs

By Emma Komlos-Hrobsky
March 2016

Future of Language: Your given signs and pairs: mouth, kisses, red-pink, drink-apple, hurry-go. You have no tenses, only momentum into what’s before you.

The Tale of the Hag

By Simon Han
March 2016

Her feet were brown. She ambled closer. Darling, I’m you, she said. I’m you from the future.

The Vertical Frontier

By Madeline ffitch
March 2016

I could tell that he preferred each and every stranger, even strangers he had not met yet, even strangers he imagined, he preferred those strangers to me.

High Dive

An excerpt of the novel by Jonathan Lee
February 2016

Male staff members at the Grand waded through the myths that surrounded her, enjoying the feeling of being stuck.

The Naked Maja, or La Petit Mort

An excerpt of the novel "The Mastermind," by David Unger
February 2016

“You’re delicious,” he says, meaning it, remembering the taste of mango.

Treasure Hunters

By Susan Daitch
February 2016

So you’re the hotshot diver, he said, if you won’t take any money, let me buy you a hot dog.

Man on the Bus with a Spider on His Back

By J. M. Tyree
February 2016

There's a man on the bus sitting directly in front of you. He has a small brown spider crawling across his red shirt, near his left shoulder blade.

Blue Underworld

By John Benditt
January 2016

Area 51 has been hidden from the American people. For a long time. For their own good.

Square Wave

An excerpt of the novel by Mark de Silva
January 2016

It seared their eyes. Squinting, they watched the light dilate, divide in six. The rocket fell away, limp, useless, and dark as a new star grew against the storm.


By Jeff Parker
December 2015

Boundaries of Nations: What a joke American pool is. They play with miniature sticks on a tiny table with a bunch of tiny multicolored balls, a bunch of toy balls, just like between their American legs.

Shakespeare, New Mexico

By Valeria Luiselli, translated by Christina MacSweeney
December 2015

Boundaries of Nations: With time, I learned to love and master my scenes.

The Men and Women Like Him

Amber Sparks, from her forthcoming collection, The Unfinished World
December 2015

A year ago he brought the pox blankets back to the natives after a well-meaning group of illegal tourists stole them away. On return he had a sort of quiet breakdown.


By Maggie Shipstead
December 2015

He led her away, down one tunnel, then another. He took her through a passage where the bones were piled so high they had to wriggle over them on their bellies.