An Interview Near Signal Street

An Interview Near Signal Street

By Melissa Kandel The subway car came to an abrupt halt. “Signal Street!” With a polite nod to the plumpish redhead whose morose stares he had endured for the larger part of his 57-minute trip from Eagleshead to Signal Street—“So sorry miss, didn’t mean to bump you there,”—Daniel Plinkers departed

The Figaro

The Figaro

By Melissa Kandel Of all the details to remember, her hands were still the clearest in his mind. Unpolished nails of otherworldly innocence, intoxication by way of ten fingers and smooth skin and a wrist circled with Rolex Sky-Dweller gold, limited edition. Back to her hands. What did he later

Night Flight of The Sheep

Night Flight of The Sheep

“ … and, should the symptoms of sleeplessness persist, a patient may attempt any number of psychologically soothing exercises … lulling the mind to a more restful state of being … the most popular and effective of these called ‘counting sheep,’ wherein the patient, with eyes closed, begins enumerating sheep

Whale-Talk

Whale-Talk

By Melissa Kandel Yosemite My name is Yosemite. I’m five feet, six inches tall with a reddish tint to my hair, a long beard that I never comb and green-blue eyes that are noticeably two different sizes. I only shower on Thursdays, smoke at least five cigarettes a day and

His Muse

His Muse

There’s a road in Costa Rica that is watched by snakes and stones. The stones don’t make the best sentinels (stony-faced as they may be), mostly because they have no eyes and can only roll loosely in one direction or the next to warn of trouble ahead. The snakes, by

To The Birds

To The Birds

TO THE BIRDS TO THE BIRDS AN AWAKENING SORROW TO THE BIRDS TO THE BIRDS MY SOUL SHALL BORROW UNTIL LITTLE REMAINS SAVE THEIR TROUBADOUR SONG TO THE BIRDS TO THE BIRDS OR TO ME ALL ALONG. “It’s a fabricated kind of love,” said Lucie Mayweather to no one. She

Annalee

Annalee

Annalee was her name. I say was because she’s no longer with us but you should know she was my Aunt Annalee and she was forever saying strange things to me like, “You’ll never understand what’s sitting inside or outside the ocean, so the best you can do is try.”

So Wild And Free

So Wild And Free

There are, inside a deconstructed world, threads of life that must be sewn together in order to make sense. Even then, when the quilt of what is has been stitched, sense may elude the eyes, the ears, the nose, the mind, and only what might be shall remain … “This

A Terrible Day And A Tree

A Terrible Day And A Tree

From: Henry Littlesworth To: Marcus Trevan Subject: Your Job It’s over. Fax Me Up LLC is closing shop, effective immediately. Funny I should write this to you over email, the very thing that killed my fax business. Well, Rainforest Online Services killed us, too. Damn devil of a company. People

Letter to the Editor

Letter to the Editor

HEREAFTER the subject of women’s underwear will not be treated in the letter-press of THE LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL. The editors have reached this conclusion for the following reasons: First, the changes in this part of a woman’s wardrobe are not either sufficient or material enough to justify extended chronicle. Second,

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