Soon enough it’s clear he’s hellbent on spreading the rumor he fucked you—or is it fact? You’re a 13-year-old freshman who drank a pint of Southern Comfort, bla...
Deadline: June 30, 2018. Now accepting nonfiction submissions of 3,000 words or less on the theme of Recovery. All kinds of addiction and trauma require recover...
Before surgery, a rabbity young man in a white jacket hurried by and put his hand down the front of my dress, then bustled away. On my gurney to the OR, a chatt...
I sit out in the chill wet evening, all the roses are dead on the bushes, waiting and hoping and knowing, here we are at last and so soon.
At the hospital I met a young woman who’d smashed a light bulb, poured the glass into her afternoon Diet Coke, and drank it. Then she called her husband to tell...
Over-explaining can be especially harmful in regards to nonfiction because we essayists are often accused of doing some serious navel-gazing—where we can’t look...
The first time I took a Vicodin, I didn’t nod out; quite the contrary, I was imbued with positive energy and became quite industrious and efficient. All my rese...
I say sorry sorry sorry over and over as she pulls back into the traffic. It’s okay, she assures me. But I know it is not. Nothing during that time comes even c...
The house had other guests too. They were invisible in daylight...
