Things looked different in his old town—the buildings smaller, the trees taller, the thistles flowering in the ravine they buried Father.

Monica Wang grew up in both Burnaby, Canada, and Taichung, Taiwan, so don’t bother looking for the body.

I waited for you. They said I was a fool, but I didn’t want money. It wasn’t even for love. Every life has a purpose, and that was mine.

Derek Dexheimer (@dex3703) gives his report at He is working on a novel.

I heard your voice in a jet engine’s roar, so I pulled out my phone to call you. But you were mid shift, so I texted instead: thinking of u.

M. Brigman is on Kindle.

She never read the entire story. She just skipped to the good part, the life summarized by publication credits and master’s degrees.

Sarah Vernetti is currently preparing to have her afternoon cup of coffee.

For now most of our lights still work. We’ll see.

Michael Mungiello is from New Jersey.

He’d remember that she was still wearing the macaroni necklace the twins gave her at brunch.

The doctors would stop pumping her chest soon.

Julia Walton’s first novel is being published by Random House Spring 2017. *cue happy music*

I watched as my new makeup bag fell from the second story bathroom window of his apartment complex. When my mascara hit the ground, it ran.

Kayla Pongrac is an avid writer, reader, tea drinker, and vinyl record spinner.

She continued to count, loudly and slowly, long after the children were hidden, basking in the silence between the numbers.

Michael Jagunic is an extra on the set of Cleveland, Ohio.

Forget the stories we made up about the scars. We never had wings. We were born joined at the back, destined only to weigh each other down.

R. Gatwood is concise.

We pile in, wailing with the siren, start the first of a million card games, ignore the banging on the bunker door; it stops soon enough.

Daniel Galef reads when he isn’t writing.