SAM WASN'T UNHAPPY to be called back to work so soon after little Gracie’s funeral. For the past two weeks since he’d challenged the psychic that Maura brought into their house she hardly answered him when he spoke to her, hardly looked at him. His home was a lonely place and despite himself he was … Continue reading The Oracle
IF HE POSITIONS his head perfectly, it’ll align with the drops of water streaming down his head and ears so he can’t hear. He becomes born again, without hearing. Instead: vibrations that soothe and shut things out. Long showers have always been his “thing.” Letting them whisk him away. Fleeing stupidity-riddled reality tidbits that munch … Continue reading Painkillers
THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION raged. Alejandro fled to Texas. He drank tequila. He bemoaned the fact that tequila, once cheap, now cost dearly. He became a citizen in a land in which he was a stranger, but what else can a stranger do?
I DIDN'T REPLY to Jacob’s last text message to me, but I did show up to his funeral. I’d spent the entire morning deciding what to wear. A lot of the clothes that I once wore don’t quite fit me the way they used to in high school. Is wearing black to a funeral mandatory? … Continue reading What Do I Wear to My Friend’s Funeral?
Cryonics n. the process of freezing a body at the moment of its death with the hope that it will be brought to life at some future time. ~ The Oxford Learner’s Dictionary This definition was like a sick amen burned into Reggie’s synapses. It was a prayer already dead and robbed of spirit before … Continue reading The Glass Slumber
Here are Hidden Peak Press' 2022 Pushcart Prize nominees. Listen, I Need to Tell You Something by Andrea Lawler A Dead Thing by Adam Greenfield A Study of Skeletons / A Cherry Tree Picked Clean by McCaela Prentice The Clearing by Mathieu Cailler Metaphysical Twitch by Margaret Saigh Friend of Pig by Peter Alterman The … Continue reading 2022 Pushcart Prize Nominees
IT IS A HUMID NIGHT in D.C. and the air feels clotted and dense, like it’s on the verge of hemorrhaging outside instead of raining. It’s sick air, damp and shameless; the perfect conditions for reminiscing. I slow my pace back to my hotel where Frannie is already waiting for me in the lobby bar … Continue reading A Dead Thing
Sean Doherty slammed the big glass door open and stormed across the lobby toward his office. “Sean?” Terry, the receptionist, looked up in surprise. “Trouble with Cramer again?” “With Cramer? Never. He’s a paragon of clienthood! A saint!” Sean threw his notebook down the hallway ahead of him and ripped off his tweed jacket. When … Continue reading Working Title
FOR A MOMENT she pictured herself living somewhere else. Somewhere far away where women fixed things in order to live… in some desert somewhere or in a war-torn town… walking home from the vegetable market with a basket balanced on her head. She was connected in some way to all of them. For a moment … Continue reading There Was A Falseness To Her Life
THE MAN BEHIND the Venetian blinds never knew whether it was sunrise or sunset. He would wake up in his leatherette armchair, or on the ratty sofa he kept for naps. He would wake up next to his soft pack of cigarettes, his pint of bourbon. He was waiting. He had been told a leggy … Continue reading Private Eye