https://soundcloud.com/americanshortfiction/five-questions-for-the-snake-charmer-by-c-pam-zhang At some point on my way to the nephew’s birthday without a present, somewhere between swigging Gatorade and weaving around piss puddles and clamping my lips against vomit or provocative statements (as my dear sister puts it), I feel a hand grab mine. A shock of warmth, then the hard shove of a box. I watch enough news to know: I'm holding a bomb. In a few seconds the wet red jelly of … [Read more...] about Five Questions for the Snake Charmer
Web Exclusives
Flood
https://soundcloud.com/americanshortfiction/flood My sister couldn’t see till she was seven, after we’d moved across town for the fifth time because all our landlords “had it out for us,” as my parents said, and the new place was in a better neighborhood because my mom’s boss owned it and had cut us a deal on rent, so we were zoned at a better school that was more equipped to deal with my sister’s seizures than our old school had been—though since she’d switched to phenobarbital the year … [Read more...] about Flood
Menu
We’ve already tried everything. We tell the waitress to bring rolls, wine. Meanwhile we’ll decide what we want to order. This is our favorite restaurant. It’s the only restaurant in town as far as we’re concerned. The atmosphere is exquisite—carpet with hunting scenes, dark wood. The mayor and his cronies sit nearby, tearing apart their steaks by candlelight and spilling juice on their ties. I wave. And there’s the guy Lynn always goes on about, the stiff cowboy type who can’t move his neck. The … [Read more...] about Menu
The Sister
A girl named Caroline lived with her twelve brothers in a house on the edge of the woods. The youngest, Philip, was her friend and responsibility. Mother and Father had died years ago of an illness. The brothers talked about how hard it had been to watch, something Caroline couldn’t remember. Each of the brothers had a job. Some wore suits and some wore coveralls. Philip had been born with one eye, due to his mother’s fever during pregnancy. The eye rolled around in his head, searching … [Read more...] about The Sister
Gorman, CA
https://soundcloud.com/americanshortfiction/heather-wells-peterson-gorman-ca On the way to the wedding in Los Angeles, they ran out of gas. They were a couple, a man and a woman. The woman was driving them down from San Francisco, where they had spent a few days—it was their first time in California, and they were both from somewhere else. The man promised they would make it to the gas station. “How could you know that?” she asked. He didn’t answer. The car was a rental, and it was … [Read more...] about Gorman, CA
The Sun and the Pacific, Flowers
In the afternoon, I was usually lying in the hammock reading Don Quixote while avocados fell on the roof and the grapefruit tree blew its scent around the yard. Bougainvillea and jasmine grew on all the walls, and several varieties of palm snaked up in the sky. The medians were a riot of rosemary. I remember oleander and trumpet vines and sidewalks littered with jacaranda blooms. Hibiscus and giant agaves. Bella donna. There was a tree that made wooden flowers; I have one still, years … [Read more...] about The Sun and the Pacific, Flowers