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CONTRIBUTORS' BIOS ROY ENDEAN lives in the south of Ireland. His work has appeared in Brand Magazine, The Steel Toe Review, Burningword, Corium, Sonder Magazine, Juked, and The Santa Ana River Review.
ANN-MARIE BROWN is a Canadian painter working in encaustic and oil. She is currently living on the far west coast of British Columbia in the company of rain and bears. www. annmariebrownpaintings.com
JANINE DEBAISE is author of Body Language and Of a Feather. Her essays have been published in numerous journals, including Orion Magazine, The Southwest Review, and The Hopper. She teaches writing and literature at SUNY Environmental Science and Forestry.
JACK GARRETT has worked in radio in Colorado and New Mexico and performed onstage in New York, where he helped start a theatre company. His fiction publications include The Literary Review, The New Orleans Review, Fugue, Natural Bridge, The Portland Review, The Santa Monica Review, Quarter After Eight, The Los Angeles Review, Monkey Bicycle, Witness, and The Superstition Review. He is also an audiobook narrator.
HOLLY ROSE GAMMAGE holds a BA and an MA in Creative Writing. In 2020, Holly won the inaugural Kurious Arts short story competition and was longlisted for the Mslexia short story competition. Her short fiction has also featured in Lunate Journal and has been broadcast on BBC Radio.
MICHAEL GIDDINGS is a writer, cartoonist, and musician from Brooklyn. His work can be found in HASH Journal, Reservoir Road Review, and Scribble Lit and is forthcoming from Pidgeonholes and The Minnesota Review. He works as a preschool teacher and reads for the literary magazine Fatal Flaw. CONTRIBUTORS' BIOS
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, MELISSA GOODNIGHT S work has appeared in Mud Season Review, Lunch Ticket, Welter, and the anthology Blue City Poets, among others. Melissa earned her BA from Missouri State University, her MA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, and is currently an MFA candidate at Mississippi University for Women. Melissa lives in Atlanta with her husband, son, and two anxious poodles.
REBECCA HARRIS is a multidisciplinary artist based in England and a classical violinist by training. Her discography includes many works inspired by poetry, including a performance on a 2019 GRAMMY award-winning recording. As a visual artist, writer and composer, she is inspired by themes of disembodiment, timelessness, and synaesthesia.
JESSICA GOULD enjoys a multifaceted career as writer, soprano, artistic director, and award-winning filmmaker with over 50 laurels to her name. Her creative nonfiction, satire, and essays have been published in the literary journals Belle Ombre, The Blue Nib, Exquisite Pandemic, Months to Years, and Litro. A soprano, artistic director, Italian translator, and researcher, she performs and records in Europe and the United States, where she has been praised by The New York Times for “a dramatic intensity that honored the text.”
CHELSEA TOKUNO-LYNK grew up in Kane'ohe, Hawai'i and now calls Milwaukee, Wisconsin, home. A 2015 and 2018 VONA/ Voices Fiction & Prose Fellow, she moonlights in non-profit work. 6
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ANDREW JANKOWSKI writes fiction, poetry and essays, some of which have appeared in The New English Review and Law and Liberty Magazine. He lives in the northern Midwest. MARK MASSARO received a master’s degree in English Literature from Florida Gulf Coast University with a focus on 20th Century American Literature. He is a Professor of English at Florida Southwestern State College, teaching Composition, Literature, and Creative Writing. When not reading or writing, he can be found jamming at concerts or going on family walks with his wife, son, and golden retriever. His writing has been published in Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Pegasus Review, Jane Austen Magazine, The Sunlight Press, The Mangrove Review, and others. Follow his literary adventures on Instagram at @bostonmahk4.
KATIE HAMILL is a doctoral student and visual artist living, working, and playing on the unsurrendered and unceded traditional lands of the Wolastoqiyik peoples on the east coast of Canada. Originally from a hamlet in Norfolk, ELEANOR MATTHEWS now lives in London. Her short stories have appeared in print and online, in publications such as Shooter, Ghost Parachute, Popshot, Unsung, Prole, HVTN, and Elbow Room. She has featured on BBC Radio 4’s Tweet of the Day programme, talking about magpies and the writing process, and on The Drunken Odyssey podcast.
DANIEL CRASNOW is a multigenre writer and scholar who graduated from Stetson University in 2020. While there, he held a Sullivan Scholarship in creative writing. He is gay and Jewish. His work is published in or forthcoming from New Voices Magazine, the Gateway Review, Literary North, and more. When he was young, he created a sword and fought a demon in his dreams. He hasn’t had nightmares since.
RONIT PLANK is a writer, teacher, and podcaster with work in The Atlantic, The Washington Post, The Rumpus, The Iowa Review, and American Literary Review, among others. When She Comes Back, her memoir about the loss of her mother to the guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, from which “Far From Forsaken” is excerpted, is her first book. Her short story collection Home Is A Made-Up Place won Hidden River Arts’ 2020 Eludia Award and will be published in 2022. https:// ronitplank.com.
JOSHUA NAGLE currently lives in small coastal town in mid-Wales with his partner and is completing his first novel. He enjoys writing and reading coming-of-age narratives and literature that explores the Vietnam war and 1970s America. His debut short story “August Children” was published in Bull Magazine. You can follow his writing at @JoshuaJNagle on Twitter.
ALEX BARR'S story collection My Life With Eva was published in 2017 by Parthian Books in Wales. Take a Look At Me-e-e!, a book of stories for children about farm animals based on his experience as a smallholder, was published by Gomer Press in 2014. He won first prize in the 2016 Doolin Writers Competition in Ireland. His poetry collections are Letting in the Carnival from Peterloo and Henry’s Bridge from Starborn.
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CONTRIBUTORS' BIOS
PETE CARVILL has been writing and reporting since 2006, currently working from his home in Berlin after stints in Tokyo, Budapest, and London. His work, when not writing for others, is about making sense of all the mistakes he has made that have defined his life up until this point. In his spare time, he likes to go out and look at things in nature. He has a website that he encourages people to visit if they want to see the rest of his work. www.petecarvill.com.
B. ALEX MILL is an academic living in St. Louis who writes short fiction.
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MARTA MICHALOWSKA is a curator, artist, and writer based in London. She has recently completed her debut novel Sketching in Ashes, supported by Arts Council England and is currently writing her second. She graduated from the Novel Studio at City University in 2019. Michalowska is Associate Director of Theatrum Mundi, where she co-edited two collections of commissioned writing to be published later in 2021, and Director of The Wapping Project.
KEVIN RICHARD KAISER publishes fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and music internationally. He is cofounder and editor-in-chief of the multilingual online literature and arts journal Punt Volat and also works in visual media and performance. He holds a PhD from Universitat Pompeu Fabra in Barcelona and an MFA from Chatham University in Pittsburgh. His book, An Ethics Beyond: Posthumanist Animal Encounters and Variable Kindness in the Fiction of George Saunders, is currently available. Visit his website at www.kevinrichardkaiser. com and the journal at www. puntvolatlit.com.
A 2021 words grantee of Curious Elixirs: Curious Creators and a 2019 literary grantee of the Café Royal Cultural Foundation, DREW PISARRA has also won grants/commissions from the Brooklyn Arts Exchange, Imago Theater, the Portland Institute of Contemporary Art, the Portland Art Museum, and the Regional Arts & Culture Council. His books include You're Pretty Gay (Chaffinch Press), Infinity Standing Up (Capturing Fire Press), and Publick Spanking (Future Tense Books).
AMONG THE LONELY PEOPLE PETE CARVILL
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“...MY FIRST GREAT DIVE BAR, AND WHICH WOULD IN SOME WAYS BECOME ONE OF THE GREAT LOVES OF MY LIFE, WAS A PLACE IN YORK, NORTH YORKSHIRE, UP IN A NEARLY FORGOTTEN CORNER OF NORTHERN ENGLAND THAT IS PRETTY FAR FROM ANY BRIGHT LIGHTS AT ALL...”
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“...SOME OF THE HAPPIEST COUPLES I HAVE MET HAVE BEEN IN DIVE BARS. THE HAPPIEST COUPLES ARE ALWAYS THOSE WHO COULD MATCH EACH OTHER DRINK FOR DRINK...”
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“...THERE WAS NO GREAT END, NO ONE-NIGHTTHAT-FINISHEDEVERYTHING FOR ME WHEN IT CAME TO THAT WORLD. I GOT OLDER AND GREW UP SOME AND GRADUALLY DRIFTED OUT OF IT UNTIL ONE DAY I WOKE UP AND I WAS SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY...”
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“...ON A DAY LIKE TODAY, IT’S HARD TO IMAGINE THAT IN A FEW WEEKS’ TIME, WHEN AUTUMN STORMS COME, THIS PLACE WILL BE EMPTY, WITH ONLY A FEW DOG WALKERS AND JOGGERS BRAVING THE WEATHER...”
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“...JOEY REACHED HIS BROTHER’S BIKE AND HE WAS SHOCKED AT HOW CLEAN IT LOOKED. IT HAD BEEN POLISHED AND REPAINTED. MIKE HAD NAMED HER RED. YOU HAD TO NAME YOUR BIKE, LIKE A HORSE...”
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“...MIKE READ IT ALOUD FOR JOEY TO HEAR, HIS VOICE SOUNDING OFF THE EMPTY WALLS OF THE BIG HOUSE LIKE A ROCK THROWN TO THE BOTTOM OF A WELL...”
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“...I LOVED MY BODY MOVING AT HIGH SPEED, THE WIND AGAINST MY FACE AND THROUGH MY HAIR, MY HEART POUNDING IN MY CHEST...”
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“...THERE WAS A STILLNESS TO HER, AND SHE WAS WATCHFUL, AS IF SHE WERE ASSESSING ME. MAYBE I WAS ON EDGE BECAUSE I KNEW TO BE WARY OF NEW PEOPLE MY MOTHER BROUGHT INTO HER LIFE – LIKE BOYFRIENDS AND SPIRITUAL LEADERS...”
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“...THE MUG OF COFFEE ON HIS DESK IS STILL WARM, SO HE GULPS IT DOWN. DRINKING TOO FAST HE GETS A MOUTHFUL OF SLUDGE, THE RESIDUE OF GRANULES SLICKING HIS TONGUE. ON HIS FIRST DAY, HE ASKED IF THERE WAS A CAFETIÈRE...”
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“...HE FEELS LIKE A SMALL CHILD AT A FAMILY PARTY, WATCHED FROM A DISTANCE TO ENSURE HE DOESN’T DISGRACE HIMSELF. TURNING TO THE WOMAN, HE SEARCHES HER DAMAGED FACE AND TRIES TO UNDERSTAND...”
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PEOPLE
THE LIGHTS THEY LOVE
The old woman stands in her kitchen with frazzled grey hair, heart-eye sunglasses, and a blunt. She takes another hit and tucks the blunt behind her ear, rubbing the junk off her hands and onto the satin bathrobe. She pours another glass of champagne for herself and glances at the second cup on the bar: untouched vodka in her husband’s favourite glass. She sighs, corks the bottle, and returns it to the butler’s fridge. Turning around, she takes in the giant, empty house – its 20foot roof soaring above her head, interrupting her view of the sky. She hates that house. Hates all this damn wealth… But she can’t leave.
A. —A blinding white medical light haunts a ghostly hospital and frames an occupied bed. —Three mirrors – one is cracked, one is nearly shattered, and one is just a frame. —A double-layered, five-coloured, glow-stick choker.
The child is excited to read more about Greek monsters and hide beneath his stars-and-rocket-ship blanket. He always enjoys the night. Whatever monster he helps Percy Jackson kill will be easier to kill in his dreams. He looks at his wall. Enjoys the contrasting red, orange, blue, purple, yellow, and green. The colours gave his mom a headache. He wasn’t going to change them. Not ever.
B. —Two dim desk lamps light a book from every angle. —An old-wood-table bonfire; the tinder is mahogany and oak and spruce. —A paintless, dusty window frame. A window kept clean to frame the morning sun.
The woman finishes her chalk sunset and sits back against the brick building. Her legs pulse from the upright effort, though she can’t take too long to rest. There is so much more to do. She has pictures for every sidewalk square, and though she has a friend helping, the work will take the majority of the night. She grins. She wouldn’t make it home tonight; she rarely did. Her third floor apartment is just a place to store her clothes. An officer will shake her awake in the morning and arrest her on a minor loitering charge that will be dropped in 20 minutes. The woman wonders how the janitor is doing.
C. —The lake’s surface reflects the moon. The half moon, setting beneath the waves, looks whole. —A giant, red, neon light tints a white-walled room; a pair of hands make a shadow-bird against the back wall. —A vibrant, green-bottomed lava lamp with a white lava bubble.
The corpse rests in the mahogany coffin, name carved into the top. The body is lifelike; the morticians do their jobs well. The family hasn’t seen their loved one yet. He died suddenly but not violently. Most of his family live out of state. A few members came down early and are helping the widow through the mourning process. They cry in the second pew. The friends give the family privacy. If the widow is to give the memorial speech tomorrow, they need to cry now.
D. —Thirty memorial candles on a table cloth that reaches the floor. —A giant, flat screen TV that fills the wall. —A rusting spotlight growing dusty in an attic.
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The man boards his Shanghai plane, bound for Cambodia. He’d soaked up Shanghai from skin to marrow. He’d learned to speak the language well enough to speak it in love. His lover waves at him, a slow tear rolling down her face – she always knew he would leave, yet he is a captivating man: his wild hair and silly grin…his piercing green eyes. His many lovers loved that look; it was one of the reasons he kept it. He loved that they loved that look. He loved all thirty-something of them – one in every country he visited. But just as he loved them, he left them. He finds no satisfaction in what he has.
E. —The light above their lover’s bed; their haloed lover. —New Year’s Day fireworks from a third-story rooftop. —Grandma’s “dancing fairy” Christmas light atop a pine tree.
The imaginary friends I have are actually an imaginary family. The father and mother allow me to hang with their kids. My friend and I constantly prank his sister. Our jokes are harmless. Inevitably, his sister goes to their mother. The mother gets her husband to confront us, and he grins as he tells us to stop. We never leave her alone, though sometimes we join her at the dollhouse or the tea table in order to repent. We don’t mind. Eventually, just as the pranks become tradition, so does our repentant tea.
F. —A late night/early morning campfire covered in burning marshmallow. —The light of God for the second time. —A flickering, unreachable hall bulb that never goes out.
The doctor stumbles out of the casino with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flip phone. He tries to check the time but sees nothing on his wrist. He liked that watch. He wasn’t sure whom to call. He doesn’t have a house anymore. He doesn’t have friends. He hasn’t talked to his college buddies in three years. His wife left six months ago. She took the dog. He could always call his parents, but a man never likes to do that.
G. —A brilliant, amber ballroom chandelier enveloping the roof. —A reflective fish-scale dress swimming with the light and shadow. —Vibrant black skin.
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“...THEY BUNDLED UP THE KITTEN AND TOOK HIM TO A NEARBY BODEGA. FORTUITOUSLY CALLED THE LUCKY DELI, THE BODEGA WAS RUN BY TWO EGYPTIANS, WHO KINDLY TOOK IN THE LITTLE ONE AND NAMED HIM HAMZA...”
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“...WHAT’S GOING ON? WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME? WHY AM I SUDDENLY AWARE OF MYSELF AND WHAT’S GOING ON AROUND ME? AND HOW AM I ABLE TO SPEAK? WAIT – HOW DO I EVEN KNOW WHAT LANGUAGE IS? OR WHAT AN ABILITY IS? OR WHAT I AM?...”
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“...TO SHOP AT BITS AND PIECES WITH YOUR PARTNER— YOUR BOYFRIEND, GIRLFRIEND, SIGNIFICANT OTHER, FUCK BUDDY, PILLOW PAL, FIANCÉ, SPOUSE, MUTUAL, SPECIAL ONE, YOUR LOVE, YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOUR PASSION-BONE— MUST REQUIRE TRUST AND COMFORT...”
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“...I HAD A FRIEND WHO HAD TO STAY HOME WHILE HER FATHER DIED ALONE, QUARANTINED IN A HOSPITAL. I HAD COLLEGE STUDENTS WHO HAD TO LEAVE THEIR HOPEFUL FUTURES TO GO HOME AND BABYSIT SIBLINGS IN TINY APARTMENTS, THEIR PLANS CANCELLED. I THOUGHT OF FRIENDS AND FAMILY WHO HAD LOST JOBS, THEIR LIVES FOREVER ALTERED...”
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“...MY MOTHER SIPPED HER BLOODY MARY, AND SHE PRAYED. SHE PRAYED UNDER THAT PORCHLIGHT FOR 417 SECONDS. SHE PRAYED WITH MANY AMERICANS THAT NIGHT...”
“...THE TRAIN STOPS AT UNION STATION, AND THEY CATCH A CAB TO THE SAME FLOWER SHOP THEY VISIT EACH YEAR. KICK PICKS OUT A BOUQUET OF SUNFLOWERS WHILE AMI WANDERS THE AISLES, PRESSING HER FACE TO THE ROSES AND CRUSHING SPRIGS OF LAVENDER BETWEEN HER FINGERS. THEY LEAVE THE STORE IN SILENCE...” 74
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“...HE WANTS HER TO LET GO OF THE TOWEL, TO LET HERSELF BE NAKED IN FRONT OF HIM. BUT SHE TURNS AND WALKS BACK INTO THE BATHROOM, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HER...”
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