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Foot Soldier

Issue 1 by Leilani Squire

“Goddamn sand.” “What?” “G-o-d-d-a-m-n s-a-n-d.” Will speaks slowly, forcing the letters through the fluttering black on white kufiya wrapped around his mouth, nose and neck. “C-a-n-‘t s-e-e s-h-i-t,” Popeye yells back. “What?” Popeye yells in Will’s ear, “Said can’t see shit.” Will nods as the two soldiers brace against the orange wall, whipping dirty sand all around them. “Should stay here,” Popeye shouts in Will’s face. “What the fuck you …

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Miriam and Cat

Issue 1 by Maria Haskins

Cat waited for Miriam to get up. He waited a long time, but she didn’t rise. She didn’t put fresh herring on his plate. She didn’t fill his water bowl. She didn’t open the back door so he could refuse to go out in the snow. She didn’t clean his box, even when he mewled and scratched sawdust all over the rug. By afternoon, Cat was very hungry. He walked …

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The Call of the Dragons

Issue 1 by Michael Radcliffe

Thunder echoed in the distance as the rain pelted down, the cold, fat drops of water crashing against the traveler’s cloak. Tattered and frayed at the edges, one could tell from a distance the cloak and its owner had seen far better days. Shuffling forward in the darkness, the figure finally reached the doorway of a ramshackle inn at the end of the street. A battered and faded sign hung …

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The Big Picture

Issue 1 by Daphne Deeds

Field Kallop is an artist whose primary tool is gravity. Her exhibition, The Melody of Structures, recently on view at The Tremaine Gallery, was an elegant contemplation of physics, mathematics, and the unseen structure of nature. The work is hard to categorize because it is at once drawing, sculpture, installation, and, during a public event when she constructed the piece, performance. As approximately fifty observers stood around the periphery of …

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Dark Cold Winter Woods

Issue 1 by Maren Morgan

In the dark, I pass a Schwarzwald. Pine trees drip and drool in the obsidian pre-dawn. The thick black copse is cold and damp like a grave and thin frozen firs scrape the dirty oily sky without giving shelter. No lingering for me. I feel unease and the apprehension that Hansel and Gretel should have had. Dank, inky winter forests drive ice worms into my soul. This dense night wood …

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