by Isaac Black. I reached for my phone before I opened my eyes, a motion that had become automatic. It felt something like morning, and my awful, little screen confirmed.
Read More
by Isaac Black. I reached for my phone before I opened my eyes, a motion that had become automatic. It felt something like morning, and my awful, little screen confirmed.
Read Moreby Miles Klee and Madeline Gobbo
The man under the bed held his breath. The opening wasn’t wide enough for a body, but it looked like an escape. The man hadn’t heard the alarm in time to make his. The wobbly electric sobs made him want to call his mother. He would be late for their appointment, but he’d never intended to go.
Read Moreby Seth Garben
An excerpt from Devices, a short fiction piece that appears in our first print issue, Pattern Machines.
Read More