Dog’s Rothko by Sara Grace
And the sun and the sun and the sun! And the wet grass, wet on the nose, scent of dew and worm and no yes no yes, another! Meat, meat in the bread, fire on the meat. Somewhere in…
Tag: Interiority
Churchgoing by Jenny Feldon
I go to churches because they’re quiet. The world is too loud. The first time I went, I was hiding. I’d been paying for a flat white at the café near my old office when my ex-fiancé and his…
My Demons by Jill Rosenberg
The night before I start treatment at Harrington, Raffi and I go to Foxy Night at the Cock in the East Village. We have to wait in line to get in. It’s eleven, and it’s dark, but it’s lit-up city…
How to Say That We Want to Say Everything Is Okay by Luka Poljak
She said she wanted me to meet her parents up in Squamish the week after I came back and that if I wanted to die it would be okay, but only after I meet her parents. So we drove…
Flapping Wings and a Shoeless Walk by Sudha Balagopal
My daughter, Savi, instructs me to wear shoes when I go for my morning walk. She says it’s not considered exercise otherwise. I tell her my toes feel imprisoned in shoes and slide my feet into chappals before I…
Here and There and Everywhere by Robert Herbst
I ended it in Chicago, when the snow bloomed in every direction and plows passed over and over across the major roads like blunted razors. It was no use; people abandoned cars in the middle of streets. Cafés shuttered.…
Interview: Alan Heathcock
CRAFT is thrilled to welcome Alan Heathcock as guest judge for our 2022 Short Fiction Prize. Heathcock is the author of Volt, a collection of short stories from 2011, and 40, a debut novel that publishes on August 2,…
Instructor Feedback by Madari Pendás
Thank you for your submission. We must begin with the lines—far too restated in this piece. Like I’ve mentioned before, a good artist looks more at their subject than at the paper. Think about what your mind is naturally…
Coming Home to Myself by Bryan Okwesili
I am humming along to Lucky Dube’s voice over the radio on the windowpane. The cavernous room swallows his tenor, leaving his words bare, airy, like scattered feathers in the sun. I do not know what it means to…
Never Rush a Rabbit: Prey Animals & Choices in Fiction
By Lee Upton • Probably like many writers I’m protective toward my characters—even though I put them in impossible situations or give them unfulfillable longings. I pretty much pickle them in vulnerability. Sometimes I let them avoid any action…