by Kristin Lennox The sun slunk over the horizon, blood-orange and violet flame, flooding the sandstone formations with morning majesty. Wind whispered across the still-grey canyon floor, rustling through dead grasses, around cactus silhouettes. Jake never tired of the desert sunrise—O’Keeffe, come to life. It’s gonna get so hot, though. “Yeah, but it’s a dry […]
by Russell Nichols Don’t look down, you repeat to yourself, abseiling deeper into the mouth of Olympus Mons. The static rope feels thin as spaghetti. Which is exactly what you’ll look like if you take one wrong step. The tour guide—included in the caving package—hollers: “See anything?” Don’t look down. “You hear that?” “Hear what?” […]
by Liam Hogan The mosquitoes ignored Claudette. They feasted on the rest of us, whining in ears as we slumbered uneasily beneath nets. We begged for her insect repellent, her face and arms porcelain white, and were dismayed to discover she didn’t use any. One night she cut her finger on broken glass. What reluctantly […]
by Andreas Flögel Oh, Darling, now I understand your love for nature’s beauty and loneliness. Sparkling dew drops on the grass, the song of birds, rustling trees. I was a fool to miss out on that, all the many weekends, when you took your hiking boots and knapsack to enjoy the outdoors, while I stayed […]
by Lark Richmond Garbage bags, duct tape, and a saw in a black bag in his trunk. Millie was right. She’d sent me terrifying stories about camping dates gone wrong, but she couldn’t change my mind. Peter was kind. I had been so sure. But this bag proves otherwise. Grabbing the hammer from his murder […]
by Scott O’Neill Twelve hundred pounds of angry Kodiak bear sliced the tents, guide, and tour group into bloody lasagna. The two survivors hid behind the campsite’s redolent porta-potty. Ronnie pulled a stubby .32 semi-automatic pistol from his pocket. “Are you insane?’’ hissed Chad. “That’s just gonna piss him off.” Chad knelt and laced up […]
by Ann Wuehler My firstborn crawls out of the hole I dug with my strong hands beneath Snakestone Bridge. I pant beneath the arch of stone and rotting wood. Her tiny hands grip my out-flung arm. I wince but keep still as she slices my finger with her new sharp teeth, as she feeds from […]
by Luc Diamant The problem wasn’t that the bridge at the end of our street led to a different place each time you crossed it, but that once out of every hundred times or so, it wouldn’t take you back. Sometimes someone would show up in the next town over, but there were also those […]
by Francesco Levato This isn’t a gateway to hell. It’s not one of those bridges. There are no billy goats crossing, or hungry trolls lying in wait. If you approach on a moonlit night, no ghostly figure beckons you across or chases you down on horseback, its sword slicing at your head. I’ve come here […]
by Liam Dragan There is mould under every bridge. Seeping into foundations, winding through brick and around rebar. It isn’t on the blueprints and definitely violates regulations. When someone crosses the bridge, heading home from work or on an early morning jog, the mould whispers. Like a spore, an impulse drifts into their head. They’re […]