The Jennie Hackman Memorial Prize for Fiction, Third Place (2017) I don’t take the school bus, I don’t drive, and because mom doesn’t get home from work until four most of the time, I don’t ask her for a ride. But if I take the 509 toward Whitney Avenue at 6:15, I usually get to… More Constance By Jeremiah Dennehy (2017)
From out in the outfield dirt, the crack of the bat was the only indicator a ball was rising up before dive bombing, back through the crepuscular sky. Jimmy turned and chased the echo of the sound. Go foul… Go foul… The ball, draped in a cloak of clouds, seemed to carry by a will… More Erythrophobia By Jameson Croteau (2017)
Long River Graduate Writing Award, Winner (2017) “Petra, she say there be bones,” my grandmother told me, pointing beyond me to the old castle on top of the hill. The frame of the old, Slavic structure was about as beautiful as a decaying tooth with jagged corners. A revolting brownness permeated the place. Even so,… More Crumbling Walls By Kristina Reardon (2017)
The Jennie Hackman Memorial Prize for Fiction, Second Place (2017) The girl I was seeing had this dog, a real fluffy fucker, whose name was Angus. It was her boyfriend’s dog. She was taking care of Angus because his owner was studying abroad in New Zealand for the semester. I was, finally, over my ex.… More Angus By Sten Spinella (2017)
When I was seven, we made poetry books in school. I wrote two poems about my childhood dog, one about my grandpa, and one about 9/11. The rest were gibberish. On the cover, I drew broken hearts, storm clouds, a syringe, and my mom crying in the den. My dog and grandpa had just died.… More The Road to Hell By August Jones (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 think she is a reasonable… More Lights in the Night By Stephanie Mei Koo (2015)
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 small blue eyes. The woman… More Floating By Loriann Dozier (2015)