AC|DC 1.11
March 4,2025

Buoy by Charlinda Banks

The thing about landsickness is that it only leaves you when you’re underground so deep that your feet aren’t trying to be parallel and running anymore. It’s a particularly tough affliction for me because I was born with my feet twisting outward. The kid doctors at Bellevue always joked that I’d make a good ballerina, but mom took one look at my duck ankles and shot the statement down. Not with those flat things, she said. Continue Reading.

AC|DC / 1.10
February 11, 2025

The Green Flash by Jennifer Walker

That first night there was just the second-to-second scramble to survive stretching time and sucking it down the distorted vortex of trauma. Only in the morning did the women speak.

“I hate you,” Molly said.

“Yeah, okay,” Charlotte said.

“You are literally the worst.”

“Okie doke. Can you grab that first aid kit over there? This cut on my head is flapping around like an unlatched shutter in a hurricane.” Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.9
February 4, 2025

Nightmare by Kevin Camp

1.

The young man was on the aircraft, halfway home, before he realized what had happened.

Three college students, using the cover of heavy fog, had earlier slashed his tires in retaliation. The same heavy fog delayed the flight to the Twin Cities by two hours, meaning he arrived five minutes before boarding call—five minutes before his flight back home. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.8
January 27, 2025

The Reclaimed Body by S.J. Ladds

The man who raped me was scared of snakes.

He slid into my booth with a forked tongue and slanted eyes, sandy hair slicked back tight to his skull and glistening with gel. Pointed at a group of men shooting conspicuous glances over their shoulders and told me they’d dared him to approach the most beautiful girl in the bar with a line about the snake in his pants. Then he admitted, in hushed tones, that he was actually deathly afraid of snakes, hideous as they were. Leant in close to whisper the confession, close enough for me to smell the venom on his breath like scotch. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.7
December 24, 2024

Hindsight by Stephen K. Kim

When I moved into his apartment, I did not know that my love for him had already evaporated. Each morning, he strode across the kitchen’s chilly tiled floor, all broadness and sharp angles, smooth alabaster face, small cobalt eyes, clothed only in a bathrobe and arrogance. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.6
December 10, 2024

LET THE DAY BE BEAUTIFUL by Jack Sullivan

Other bodies. Other bodies, next to mine. Not asleep, no. That’s what they’d like me to think. They’d like me to think the others are asleep. But they’re not. I know this. I know this like I know I’m awake. How do I know I’m awake? I just do. You just know you’re awake. If the words still come, the thinking’s sound. The thinking’s sound, yes. If the words come the brain still whirs. The body – that funny, pathetic thing – moves soon after. Save I can’t. Not now. Move it, I mean. Not with all this Earth piled atop me. No matter. The words still come. If the words still come, the brain whirs. The body moves soon after. Not so bad. Not as bad as it could be. Not as bad as the others. Pretending they’re asleep. Or that’s what they’d like me to think. Continue reading

AC|DC / 1.5
November 26, 2024

#SingleOtter by Thomas Kearnes

Mrs. Larue wasn’t satisfied. Lichen fidgeted, felt the room’s dry heat, a presence no less blunt than his probation officer’s scowl. She wanted answers: why hadn’t he completed any community service hours; where was his AA attendance card; how did he accumulate a trio of “fails” on the breathalyzer wired to his ignition? The grimy window behind Mrs. Larue was large but the room shrank, the walls and floor and ceiling conspiring. Continue reading

AC|DC / 1.4
November 5, 2024

i’m still here. by Natalie Chan

There’s a heart-shaped hole cushioned in between the seats of Alan’s couch. I put a finger in and count - 10, 20, 25, 35, 85 cents. Strings of thread are caught under my nails, stretching across the gap, interweaved. I tug at them and watch them snap.

  “So did you come to my house just to finger my furniture, or?” Alan shoves a cheese cube inside his mouth. He looks like a frog when he’s eating, food protruding against the walls of his mouth, as if attempting escape. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The corners of his eyes wrinkle a little bit. It makes him look squeamish. I want to fuck him so bad it’s driving me crazy. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.3
October 22, 2024

Listen to me! Breathing through your ears by Charly Murmann

I woke up, this morning. This morning I wake up. One part of my body wakes up, in the living room of my sibling. The other part of muscles are ghosts. Some fragments of articulation are just pain bouncing through the flesh, which is empty and blank. The feelings are a quiet grumpiness and a high-pitched of horniness of a teenage boy. I have not even started my T journey yet. Not the best conditions to be in a good mood. My phone alarm woke me up at 6 am. I wonder why. I am on holiday. The children will soon wake me up and play around my sleepy eyes. I try to have a regular writing practice here. I am off, I have fewer daily activities, I mean work and social life. I am easing into the family routine, which is an unknown world. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.2
October 8, 2024

The Face and the Heel by J.S. Crawford

I press My Lover's face into the mat and watch as the blood pumps out of the cut on his forehead. The opening bell still rings in my ears. The crowd cheers in a way that can only be described as bloodthirsty. He’s screaming and I know he loves it. The cameramen wheel around the ring like spirits haunting my every move. I stand up and look down on My Lover. His body is covered in sweat and bruises, all of them my doing. I raise my fists into the air and strut around the ring like I already won the belt. We planned this part. My showboating. He knows how much I love to hear my name chanted from the mouths of thousands and from between his two soft lips. Right now, there is only time for one. The crowd comes first on Sunday nights. Continue Reading

AC|DC / 1.1
August 27, 2024

The Typical Middle School Experience by Ryder Smith

Roe and Bowen stand just outside of their middle school’s entrance, having their first real argument as a couple. Roe is angry about something trivial and childish that his new boyfriend, Bowen, did. Bowen feels sheepish and meek in the presence of his new boyfriend. Roe lets Bowen know they’d talk about this tomorrow. Bowen agrees but realizes that tomorrow’s conversation would probably be too awkward after today’s fight, so he decides on his own to put it off indefinitely, or at least until he feels prepared to take it on. Roe goes to a school practice room and cries out shrill, emotional notes until his vocal cords burn. Bowen silently walks back to his lakeside home and stares at the Huron. Continue Reading