SHANNON IS SEARCHING for the barcode on a box of trash bags when a commotion breaks out near the self-checkout registers. A male voice, strident: “—coupon says buy two get the third free! It’s right here, I’m looking at it!” Dennis’s voice, low and soothing, indistinct. The customer: “It’s only expired by a week!” The fluorescent lights … Continue reading Ant Mill
HOT WINDS RACED through the canyon, turning the acrid air thick. Desiccated flora spun aimlessly. Creatures lay dead and those dying writhed in agony upon the hard land. Bodies heaved like bellows, tongues flapping over rotting flesh. No man or animal sought inspiration in such turmoil. No thought or habit — good or treacherous … Continue reading Forsaken
Here are Hidden Peak Press' 2023 Pushcart Prize nominees. While Seeking to Understand Her Brother's Death by Camille LebelPainkillers by Julius OlofssonWindmill Tequila by J. Alan NelsonI Miss You, I Love You by Skylar CampDaytime Fireworks by Matthew MersonFrancis The Shards by Michael Dean Clark The Pushcart Prize honors the best poetry/fiction in small presses … Continue reading 2023 Pushcart Prize Nominees
CONSTANT EXPOSURE to the elements without the option or luxury of shelter is thought to cause one’s physical and mental well-being to deteriorate. Nineteenth-century Mountain men were known for having grand delusions such as feuds with neighbors who were never there or even visions of grizzlies tearing them to pieces while they slept. Such is … Continue reading Humphrey Catskill: Undone
THE KID'S THERE by the door, leaning against the brick wall under the blinking Budweiser sign. Gets deposited there almost every night by his old man. I’m half-drunk. It’s like I never left. Everything’s different. Everything’s the same? Sounded better when Sheri said it in French. I’m not the same guy is what I’m trying … Continue reading A Good Day
I DON'T KNOW HOW to start this, to write it all down, other than to say none of it was planned or simple. Neither was what happened. Nothing ever is. And yet, all the work, my collection of years collecting the raw material and nights lost to the city in search of the perfect spot, … Continue reading Francis The Shards
FOR THE PAST THREE HOURS, I’ve been full of gas. And I don’t mean that in a crude way. I mean that I feel like I’m full of compressed air from my pelvis to my shoulders. Nothing really helps—not eating, not drinking, not even farting—except for lying on the floor of the antique store. Somehow, … Continue reading Framing Elvis
MY SISTER AND HER KIDS overtake the house, absorbing my six-year-old Kate into their stampede, exhorting her to find her shoes, hurry. They hustle her toward the door in a comical cacophony, as if to pile into a clown car. “’Bye, Mom!” Kate pauses for just a moment. “You’ll be here when I get back, … Continue reading July
HE TAKES LONG DRAGS off his cigarette while driving his pickup truck down the rain-wet road, slick and dark as a whale’s back. The yellow, sodium-vapor glow of streetlights filter through the late-night drizzle and glint off the scar on his forearm—old, yet babyflesh smooth, sharing canvas space with the tattoo of a stained glass … Continue reading Mirrors
HE WOKE UP in a place that he did not recognize. The sunlight, entering through a large curtainless window, illuminated the room entirely. The whiteness of the walls further increased the intensity of the sunbeams; everything was immaculate, an almost sterile environment, even the carpet had a clean and pearly nuance to it. The furniture … Continue reading The Last Paragraph