People did all sorts of things with their jars in the beginning. Most people hid them, eventually. Many a glass container lived in dusted yet moldy basements, dormant until they weren’t. Popping open on any old day, whatever lived inside would kill the owner. Some people, however, felt a greater pull toward what lived in their jars.[Read more…] about The Jars
I still enjoyed the commencement ceremonies each May, even after all these years, annoyed at my cynical colleagues who had to be cajoled to attend. They claimed to hate the pomp and circumstance, or was it the wasted undergraduates concealing booze under their rented regalia? I settled into my chair on the dais, my black academic robes flowing and the black velvet tam perched on my head and listened to the university president’s booming voice.[Read more…] about Becoming Vice President
By Rebecca Gabay
You’re sitting high up on the plastic chair in your balcony. The sun has risen, and the sea meets the horizon beyond the Gibraltar tumult of vehicles, walls, and windows. Tankers float heavily on the water, and the Spanish mountains are green after the heavy rains, but you’re watching a small window beneath the metal roof of the estate opposite.[Read more…] about Her
By Rudy Uribe, Jr
My wife thinks I’m obsessed with our new neighbors, but I’m not obsessed with them at all; I’m obsessed with getting even.
Shortly after moving in, our neighbors built a massive deck in their backyard that looks straight into our house. Our loss of privacy really bothered me. I thought of calling Building and Safety to see if they had a permit, but I want to be a good neighbor, so I let it go.[Read more…] about So I Let It Go
By Sahith Shetty
He hasn’t seen the short-haired girl before, not once. Every day he takes the metro, but this is the first time he has seen her.
She has on a blue top and denim trousers, a handbag slung over her shoulders and a thick novel inside the handbag.
She is tall and fair-skinned—young enough to be unmarried and old enough to become a mother.[Read more…] about When People Speak Softly
By Elizabeth Fergason
She drives past the Hop Stop BBQ Café, trying to decide. Over half of the old lunch gang is gone now. Dead and buried, though most of them lived long lives. She does not stop to consider the possibility that the daily gathering at the café may have contributed to their longevity. She doesn’t think like that. She keeps the TV news on in the house, and if something comes up of interest, she’ll stop and listen to it, but after the reportage ends, it rarely again crosses her mind.[Read more…] about Hop Stop, Crap Shot