“Most Friends Ever” by Linda Courtland (2009) LRR, February 7, 2016 “We’ve identified you as the person with the fewest friends on Facebook,” the email said. “But don’t worry, help is on the way.” It was high school all over again, and I was being cyber-bullied by a social networking site for not being one of the cool kids. I typed… Continue Reading
“Disappearing Act” by Juliana Flynn (2009) LRR, February 7, 2016 The cat was gone. He lied and said he didn’t care because he held a deep conviction that his words could take shape into honest sentiments, if only he gave them the slightest push. This was most simply not the case. He had locked the thing in the bathroom (to… Continue Reading
Cold Water By Catherine Hires (An Excerpt) (2015) LRR, June 16, 2015June 16, 2017 Collins Literary Prize Winner, Prose (2015) Nia was still sleeping when I woke up. She was snoring loudly as I crawled my way down the rickety ladder that supported my lofted bed. I walked past her bed, her open mouth smushed ungracefully against her pillow, and made my way into… Continue Reading
A Tie By Joshua Couvares (2015) LRR, June 16, 2015June 16, 2017 Jennie Hackman Memorial Award for Short Fiction, Third Place (2015) Another shot. Tequila dried onto his knuckles, his fingernails. When he makes a fist, the skin between his fingers sticks together, like his hand’s one ball of flesh and bone. It tastes like an extra-bitter version of Vicks nose spray… Continue Reading
Lights in the Night By Stephanie Mei Koo (2015) LRR, June 16, 2015June 16, 2017 Jennie Hackman Memorial Award for Short Fiction, Second Place (2015) Her bedroom lights haven’t been off for twenty-four years. Oh, it is silly, isn’t it — to be scared of the dark? Yet here she is, shivering in her nightgown, far too tired to go to sleep. She likes to… Continue Reading
Floating By Loriann Dozier (2015) LRR, June 16, 2015June 16, 2017 Jennie Hackman Memorial Award for Short Fiction Winner, 2015 The woman tells her it will all be alright. She smiles when she says it, so the infant believes her, because the woman doesn’t smile often. The lines that the sudden curvature of her mouth create are strange, alien to the… Continue Reading
Dinosaur Junior By Julie Bartoli (2014) LRR, June 16, 2014June 16, 2017 Jennie Hackman Memorial Award for Short Fiction, Winner (2014) Sid sits on the overhang outside his bedroom window, watching cars. It’s one of those deadbeat summer days, mid-July and steaming. This week the number one song on the radio talks about driving with the windows rolled down, but Sid has… Continue Reading