by BRYAN MILLER
Fressen & Gefressen Werden by Eden, Janine and Jim | Flickr
The auditor was wrapping up his presentation, a tale of cooked books and mislaid funds—one for which I had no explanation—when the monster emerged from Lake Michigan.
Thank the lord for big-ass, hydra-headed favors.
Specifically the auditor was saying something about turning me over to the Securities Exchange Commission when a woman in a pinstriped power suit interrupted with a hearty “Holy shit!” She must have been the second person in the room to see the thing hoist itself dripping onto Lakeshore Drive. I saw it first. We had a tremendous view from the gleaming window-walled fourteenth floor conference room. Even from here it was hard to distinguish between the monster’s prehensile legs and its multiple tentacular heads.
by BOB SHAR
by ALYA DEMINA
by LEAH MUELLER
by CHRIS DIGIORGIO
by DAN TREMAGLIO
She wanted to write a song.
She did not want to write a song.
She loved music and how it made her
feel and was born to write and play it.
She might have been tone deaf.
She never felt more alive than when
performing in front of people.
She was often terrified and never far
She did not own an alarm clock because
she could open her eyes at any exact
minute and more often passed the entire
night pacing the villa of her imagination
in the nude and moonlight.
by JOE BONGIORNO
by GLENN A. BRUCE
by L. MACK
by SARAH BARKER
by WARREN J. COX
by PAUL SMITH
by KYLE HEMMINGS
by SAUL LEMEROND
by CATHERINE MOORE
by CHAD W. LUTZ
by DL SHIREY
By BEN SLOTKY
by ARRON BURROWS
by RASMENIA MASSOUD