We’re so pleased to announce that our judge for this year’s Halifax Ranch Fiction Prize will be Eric Puchner, author of the 2025 New York Times bestselling novel Dream State as well as the novel Model Home, a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award, and two story collections. Puchner lives in Baltimore, where he is the director of the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University. The deadline to submit has been extended to June 15, 2025. In addition to publication and a $2,500 prize, we are … [Read more...] about The Halifax Ranch Fiction Prize: Deadline Extended
short story
The Letters
My mother has been sending me letters lately. Not letters intended for me but rather letters she has been writing to various people in her life—important influences, she calls them. Relatives, friends, former classmates, coworkers. She has been writing two or three letters a week and sending them to me via email to look over and send back to her with comments. You’re a professor, she tells me, you know the right way to put these things. She says she wants me to be brutally honest with her, … [Read more...] about The Letters
EOD
Sam feared old people. She feared their drooping folds, their soft edges, like a block of butter left out for too long. They haunted the office in their squelching orthopedic sneakers, moving so slowly that Sam sometimes expected them to leave behind snail trails of mucus. She drifted behind them in the hallways, keeping at least ten paces of distance. She didn’t like to get too close to their odor of mothballs and lye soap; she didn’t want to see where their hair had thinned to reveal the … [Read more...] about EOD
Shouting Is at Least Talking
For six years I dated Ian, but only once we broke up did everyone close to me reveal they never liked him anyway. “We didn’t want to tell you,” my mother said. “We?” “Your father never liked him either.” She went quiet. “Ian’s tone was a little off. Do you know what I mean?” “He was good at communicating his needs,” I said. I found myself defending Ian, or at least defending my choice to spend six years with him, after a week of convincing myself I wasn’t right for him. “If you didn’t like … [Read more...] about Shouting Is at Least Talking
Bleed and Bleed
Christopher was the nicest man I had ever met and so I was engaged to him. We got engaged during his residency and I told people we would get married when he became a doctor, but he never became a doctor he became a physician-scientist at the university researching von Willebrand disease because he thought this way he could help many people at once instead of one at a time. He often told me just how many people in the US alone suffered from von Willebrand disease, but I forgot immediately … [Read more...] about Bleed and Bleed
Dievas X
There’s no escaping the bath ladies. They come out at night in our small village and limp to my tiny house on Naujoji Street. They knock and I go to open the door. It’s the custom to let everyone in. I’m in northern Lithuania, near the edge of a pine forest with roaming stallions that bite. I left New Jersey to live here. I am polite. The ladies are one hundred years old. I offer them coffee, not tea. They bring a paper bag. I recognize the bag. I’d thrown it out. At midnight the two search … [Read more...] about Dievas X