Though our Web Exclusive "Belly of the Beast" was published on Halloween, it's a timeless story, drawing on folk tale traditions of employing monsters to contend with painful human realities. In this case, a spouse grows distant, frightening, and dangerous, lost (literally) inside of a beast. It's a tender and desperate story that accommodates any number of ways in which our partners can abandon us. We talked with author Joy Baglio recently about the flash form, the Master Switch of Life, and … [Read more...] about Web Exclusive Interview: Joy Baglio
short fiction
Enid & Floyd & the Moon
Enid leans over the sink while her husband, Floyd, dyes her sparse hair. His veined, shaky hands are covered in the clear plastic gloves that came in the Clairol “Flame Red” coloring kit. The gloves are too small and stop below his wrists. It’s awkward, but everything for him is awkward or impossible. Using an old pair of children’s scissors, he struggles to snip the top off the squeeze bottle. His hands feel like dumb paws. Enid’s back is stiff with age, but she manages to bend forward … [Read more...] about Enid & Floyd & the Moon
The 2019 Insider Prize, Fiction Honoree: “Mother’s Son” by F.R. Martinez, Selected by Joyce Carol Oates
Joyce Carol Oates has a long history with prisons—she’s sprinkled them throughout her stories, tweeted about their poor conditions, and edited a collection of stories by incarcerated men and women. At least one of her novels is banned in some facilities. So she was the perfect judge for American Short Fiction’s 2019 Insider Prize, our contest for incarcerated writers. In the fiction category, she selected “Mother’s Son” by F.R. Martinez, calling it “intense, lyrical, nostalgic — a kind of prose … [Read more...] about The 2019 Insider Prize, Fiction Honoree: “Mother’s Son” by F.R. Martinez, Selected by Joyce Carol Oates
Killers
the water is deeper than it looks; and we’re not the worst swimmers, but it’s dark; we tend not to swim at night; no, we tend not to swim at night with guys; we all knew of the girl who drowned; she sank like a stone, they said; she was showing off that night, they said; the guys all said; tonight, it’s guys we meet at the boathouse; they’re here for the end of summer; they’re beautiful in a polished way; but we’re beautiful in that polished way; we look out across the water; we whisper … [Read more...] about Killers
Her Cousin Lena
Rose kept a notebook near and recorded her phone conversation with her mother, just because. A part of her, the part that supported herself and paid for her condoms, cigarettes, and rent, assumed a recording of her conversation with her mother might one day come in handy. Her mother wasn’t afraid of psychological blackmail. She was constantly reminding Rose of the things she should be grateful for. Rose was grateful. She pressed record. Rose’s mother’s voice was muffled by wind sounds; she … [Read more...] about Her Cousin Lena
The Moths Came
In a cloud, at night. Or like an army at sunrise. To every tree and every spike of grass, every ridgepole, every windowsill, they came. To every clothesline, especially. From the candy-coated wires, they formed strings—onions braided together by their tops—and we woke to find them swaying. Don’t open the door, we say to our daughter. Our daughter puts her hand on the knob, but the lock catches. Click. We imagine the chubby tips of her fingers nibbled down to their pin-thin bones. They’ll come … [Read more...] about The Moths Came