Fiction

harvest moon: summer solstice

well bottoms have dried, have heard the baritone rumble of river and evaporated into counter-melody. villagers wake to a death march, to a song broke free from the ground.

You Will Write Yourself All Over Again: A Los Santos Memoir

Chekhov, in certain ways, would be proud of the officer. I’m shot, in a careless burst, several times. Lying on the ground, looking up, it occurs to me that Joyce was right: “You could die just the same on a sunny day.” I stare into the sun and let it burn my retinas past repair.

The Unauthorized Guide to Circles Drain

You will need to rapidly press 1 and 2 to milk the cow’s teats. Alternate between pressing 1 and 2 until the timer runs out. Once the timer runs out, Henry will look at the bucket and say I TUGGED AS HARD AS I COULD, BUT NO MILK CAME OUT! It doesn’t matter which cow you milk or how many times you press 1 and 2, this is the only possible outcome.

Braid in Three Persons

Miracles creep over the land. I have seen cannonballs halt in midair and fly back into cannon mouths. I have seen a boy who runs atop clouds. I have seen the night sky replaced with orange fire.

New Game Plus

When you look up, you remember this feeling. The sky dismembered by waves and angles and prisms. You remember this, grasping for solid land, searching for “up” as if it were some lost treasure. You remember a jewel glimmering red as an “OFF” light in the reeds and rushes of the water.