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ISSUE 29

May 2018

3LBE 29

FICTION

Front & Back cover art by Rew X

ISSUE 29

May 2018

witches

FICTION

Learning to Drown

Kristi DeMeester

Hannah lifts her skirt above her knees, the blue floral print a harsh, discordant pattern against the smooth green lining the rocks she steps over, and wades into the river. Behind her, the fire we built flickers, threatens to die, and I force my hands against my sides. I won’t reach for her. I won’t. […]

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The Gods of the Gaps

by David Stevens

erewith, the results of our modeling… Tonight, we shall demonstrate that categories can be usurped by force for a most dramatic effect. Transitions are mundane: they occur all the time. They are also liminal: suffused with ambiguity, and hence opportunity. Think of this:. […]

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On Lonesome Tides

by Cameron Pierce

“Sorry about your dad.”

We launch out of the West End Marina in the pre-dawn fog, navigating the treacherous sands to the Washington side of the river. The Blind Channel popped off yesterday and we limited out before noon. High slack coincided with sunrise this morning. We anticipated another bloodbath. By ‘we’ I mean myself and George. […]

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Terminus

by Vajra Chandrasekera

The train runs along my arm, which I have to hold steady and horizontal. The train is tiny, or I am huge. The train is slow and makes the track vibrate, which itches deep in the dermal subgrade. To scratch would be treason, and mass murder if it causes a derail, so I resist the urge. […]

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Floating Feathers, Wings Red and Wild

by Laren Dixon

ird-clawed and bony, we tread lightly in the shadows, accustomed to the dark. This night, it’s too late to turn back, to break the pattern I follow by rote. Donovan stands against a lichen-edged wall, uneven stones pressing into his back. I hold him, fingers forcing space between his ribs. […]

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Fault Lines

by AJ Fitzwater

Till runs her fingers across the angry ridge of skin on her wrist, the latest mountain range to erupt from the fault lines of her veins. Even now the plate tectonics of her bones haven’t resettled, and the carpals grind against each other as she flexes the crust for her audience to see. […]

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