By Maria Capezio Crookes Day 1  Mother stopped the car in front of the house, where the fence paused to give space to the pathway to the front door. She turned the car off and put her head on the wheel. The rest of the family looked out the car window and stared at the new house. Built in the 1960’s, the house looked and felt old, but with a strange modern touch; it reminded Mother of the house from I dream of Jeannie. The two trees in the front yard lined the pathway, creating the illusion of a tunnel of leaves and low branches; there were rose bushes under…

By Maria Capezio Crookes I- The Chair  Last Saturday, an ordinary one, I was in the living room, sitting on my favorite chair facing the window, letting the silence of the snow falling accompany me, with a blanket on my lap, my book, and my coffee. Taking a deep breath, I looked around and saw that the stack of Christmas cards we received was still sitting on the shelf where I left them in January. I shrugged, and thought, “I might as well do it, otherwise it’s not getting done.” I grabbed the cards and couldn’t help looking through them. Pictures of babies and dogs, letters of aunties with detailed…

By Rosanne Pagano Because Justin was small for having just turned 8 and because he had gotten good at anticipating most of the bumps on weekend drives up to the Connecticut countryside, he could readily and regularly lift up from the Pontiac’s deep backseat to peer into the front, where Nana Mary sat behind the wheel. The speedometer was green, the color of a dragon’s scales, and the needle now read 70 MPH. Justin’s lifting up worked especially well when the Pontiac had left the city streets and turn on to the Merritt Parkway, a long thoroughfare of few but very enjoyable bumps. Following a ribbon-cutting the previous summer, a…

By Rosanne Pagano In a land far from here but not beyond knowing, the east wind blows so long and so hard that every tree leans left, every bush hugs land, and every bird foolish enough to seek shelter is swept off and away to sea. “It’s peculiar, I’ll give you that,” thought the hairy man Niitis. He swung his hairy legs from under the bedclothes and landed hairy feet on the cold floor. The door of his hut stood wide open, blown open sometime in the night. Niitis sighed, long and loud. “Another day and no company but the wind,” he said. This was so: For the giant was…

By Rosanne Pagano Over the course of four drizzly weeks in March 2022, a time when both interviewer and subject were on the road, making it hard for one to catch up with the other, writer and APU faculty member Rosanne Pagano met for a scattering of conversations about the how and why of teaching her craft. Pagano, dressed in a V-neck black sweater, faded wide-legged jeans and damp Blundstones, was prompt and organized; she asked for interview questions in advance (not all were supplied) and arrived with brief, messily handwritten notes entered in pencil in the pocket-sized Rhodia notebook she carries everywhere. We met four-and-a half times at a…

By Shanice Lawton Part One of the story, Expiration Date. I’m supposed to find out when I die. There’s nothing I can do about it, and honestly, it’s depressing. A few decades ago, humans found out what we now call our expiration date. For years humans have been obsessed with death and the dread of not knowing when their last day on earth would be. Then, one day, a brilliant doctor named Dr. Karla Stein figured out a way to predict the expiration of each human. She predicted that a person’s death could be established on the day they were born. So now, in the first hour of a person’s life, they are not…

By Sara Hinojosa The female looked at herself in the glass, her green eyes stared blankly back at her the reflection. Tonight was the night. It had been a long time since she’d been on a date and the last one ended like it always did. Nothing ever lasted long. They’d always lose their head over one thing or another, but she was persistent. Pulling herself together, she drew a deep breath, took one last glance at herself and made her way out. The male sat on the far side of the crowded space, plants towered around him on every side and the others around him seemed to crawl around…

By Laura Ditto I never dreamed of this fate in my youth, though I feel I could have expected it. I was never like the other children. Born unto royalty, but never treated as if that meant something. “That thing,” my family called me, and I grew used to it—along with disdainful looks, lonely days, and familial neglect. I can remember the aging hours that would pass in lonely silence as I puttered about my rooms, separated from most of the hustle and bustle of the castle. It was nice, yes, the tapestries on the walls, comfortable bed, and divine meals. But that did not help what was done. Late…

By Brennon Land I’ve always been a good worker. It’s a strange trait—like I’ve got to prove that I deserve every bite I get to eat. Should probably talk to a therapist or something about whatever childhood trauma led to that mentality, but I stay too busy to ever schedule an appointment. Besides, there’s nothing more American than working until you drop, and I haven’t dropped yet. Even those times I feel like I’ve come close, there’s this deep reserve of pride and spite that always seems to keep me on my feet. I don’t really even know who I am if I’m not working. That’s why I had to…