Stories by
Austin Eichelberger

Couldn’t find Dad, so I asked Mom. “Which is better: Love or money?”
She sipped gin, unopened tonic beside her. “Depends on who’s paying.”

Austin Eichelberger just keeps writing.

I still speak to my dead dad, call his name when I’m alone, yet phone conversations with my grieving mother drip with dark, heavy silence.

Austin Eichelberger just keeps writing.

I regret little: cutting my sister’s arm on accident; breaking Granny’s stained-glass; running over my neighbor’s cat; denying it all later.

Austin Eichelberger teaches English and writing in sunny, sprawling New Mexico and doesn’t regret a thing.

The base of her skin graft is silk: when the nerves throb, she pictures it—ribbons in the wind, a river flowing beneath the shallow scar.

Austin Eichelberger completed his MA in Fiction in May 2009. He is co-founding editor of the online journal SPACES.