Fiction
Promethean Lit Mag
Something that Rots

Of course, she crashed it. You think these things last forever, but they so obviously don’t.

Something that Rots
Fiction
Promethean Lit Mag
Gills

I always knew drowning was the way I’d go. When I was a kid, I would park myself in front of the refrigerator in the dead of night, a plastic cup in my hand. Over and over I would refill the cup with water and empty it down my garbage chute esophagus.

Gills
Creative Nonfiction
Promethean Lit Mag
Neostalgia

My Neopets have been dying for ten years. I forgot the password to my account and the associated email address no longer exists, so my colorful pixelated friends are stuck in a prolonged state of suffering. 

Neostalgia

Story Hunter

Story Hunter

Do you want my story? Turn away. I have nothing to offer you. Nothing spurious. Nothing enchanting. I know stories can corrupt me, so I have surrendered them. I have become an ascetic. I have chosen an austere, circumspect life. I am no legend. I am no parable. I refuse to be a lesson. My greatest accomplishment is my anonymity. It is required for my line of work. 

Here Is a Story I've Been Dying to Tell

Here Is a Story I've Been Dying to Tell

It’s July of 1979. I know it’s July because I don’t have to go to school, and I know it’s 1979 because I’m nine years old. It’s easy to tell the years because it’s my age, and I just have to add up from 1970. I’ll say it now: I’m no good at math. I’m glad I don’t have to do anything but add my age to the year.