CW: Death, Domestic abuse This is what is most important: the ache in scraped knees. The crawdads scuttling among river rocks. The groan of pipes in your cracked kitchen sink. Night stealing hours. Ponds like meters-wide tide pools. Mud stealing hours. The leak in your bedroom ceiling, the water damage creeping outward around it. Threat… More “Moon-Stain and Crawdad Eater” by Charlie M. Case
CW: Illness, Death It came to me on the sixth night of my sickness, when the suffering had ceased to be new. I had been lulled into those familiar throes which, now that I was accustomed to them, deceived me into thinking that they were kinder. In came something—and I was so ill I thought… More “Knell Inevitable” by Charlie M. Case
Contest Winner for the Edwin Way Teale Award for Nature Writing (2022) I moved to Oregon during the dreadful forest fires of 2020. I moved out of Oregon during the even more dreadful forest fires of 2021. I came and went in smoke so thick that nobody noticed. As my final act in Oregon before… More “When Treading Water Above a Bottomless Pit” by John Guillemette Jr.
Contest winner for The Long River Review Graduate Award (2022) “What would you like to know about yourself?” This was what my neighbor asked me when I took my seat. He was wearing a black suit and had a thick laptop resting on his thighs. I asked him what he meant. But he wasn’t talking… More “The Ostrava Line” by Liam Kelsey
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)
day 1 We met and though I was elsewhere involved, I knew that he would be the sweetest thing my eyes would ever reach. He had a long term girlfriend but still I couldn’t take my eyes from his toiled blonde hair those anesthetic blue eyes. He looked full to the brim with secrets and… More i think i dreamed you by Aryanah Haydu (2017)