NBA longlists announced
It’s not all about the pub date
Obama memoir coming November 17
The lowdown on library ebooks
KISS Library dismantled in federal court
Gail Sheehy, author of Passages, has died
Recent Fiction

Remains, by Maureen Simons

They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot. Two little girls, hand in hand, walked soundlessly up Nora’s driveway.
Recent Poetry

For My Siren, by Emily Bornstein

Don’t tell me there isn’t something pretty about you / (don’t tell me you don’t know it).
Recent CNF

Big Girls Like Us, by Kelly Flynn

Every time I see my father, he asks me if I have lost weight. He has done this since I was a child.
How to submit to The Journal or enter A Contest or subscribe to Our Newsletter
Sunday

Sunday

by Lee Martin
A porch swing sways, and the chains in the eyehooks screwed into the rafters let out their lazy creaks as if this is a day of rest for them, too. Or nearly so.
Puddles Like Pillows

Puddles Like Pillows

by Suzanne Conboy-Hill
Things began disappearing round about March. Just little things—a newspaper left on a bench, or a sandwich wrapper—and not blown away or tumbled into a corner, just gone.
Threnody for Paul Morphy

Threnody for Paul Morphy

by Brian Glaser
The flowers are everywhere, pungent and bright. / It could be autumn, eighteen-fifty-seven.
Columbus Road

Columbus Road

by David Buchanan
It got to the point that I just didn’t want the other guys to even see her. Sharing—a tent, a cockpit, a shower—gets old during a deployment, and I wished she would stay away.
Counting

Counting

by Jodi Barnes
Often she dreams she doesn’t get into her dead boyfriend’s car. She dances solo in her stupor and calls her mother who’d promised, “I’ll pick you up; no questions asked.”
Ana’s Dance

Ana’s Dance

by Donna Miscolta
The windows are open to the blue-black sky, but there is no breeze to move the heavy air inside the apartment. Across the street, the diner blinks its electric blue sign.
Secrets in the Landscape

Secrets in the Landscape

by Cathy Herbert
The day he went into the hospital that last time, he told me he was not at all afraid of death. He did not believe in God.
I Have to Catch Fish so Jason Can Get Married

I Have to Catch Fish so Jason Can Get Married

by Matthew Sullivan
Jason has four children all born from different mothers. Child support will glean most of what he makes this fishing season. Does he know that? I won’t tell him.
Fragments of My Rape

Fragments of My Rape

by Janna Vought
It began / with the Stain. / The Stain, my Stain / red on a white bedspread / covered with bristles / of nylon thread.
Precision

Precision

by Carol Hamilton
Scarlatti’s sheet music lies / on the floor near the piano / and a catalog for later perusal / is sprawled in full color / near the computer.

Living Color: Angie Rubio Stories

by Donna Miscolta

Open Contests

The First 100 Words

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review

The Lascaux Prize Volume Six