New Fiction: Disrupter | Visual Verse
“Is this Joan?”
“No. I work for Ms. Earle. I’m one of Joan’s lawyers.”
Read more "New Fiction: Disrupter | Visual Verse"2 April 2016 | Chad Works at the IMF Now | Pidgeonholes
He moved from Shearson to Goldman to Bear Sterns in five handshakes.
Read more "2 April 2016 | Chad Works at the IMF Now | Pidgeonholes"New Fiction: Cotton | Gravel Magazine
Even while our mom and aunts and great aunts shouted over canasta tiles and laughed loud and warmly as they hunted maraschino cherries in their holiday whisky sours, and our dad and uncles and grand uncles clustered in the kitchen playing poker and drinking happy Pabst from glasses with droll cartoons on them, my sister and I stayed hunkered down in the little village.
Read more "New Fiction: Cotton | Gravel Magazine"A Gust of Wind Blows in through the Window | Matter Press/JCCA
This guy tied weather balloons to a webbed aluminum lawn chair—I think he bought it at Sears—and took off. There he is! We were just talking about you!
Read more "A Gust of Wind Blows in through the Window | Matter Press/JCCA"New Review: Rattle of Want | Gay Degani
Degani is a master storyteller with a firm understanding of these universally important wants, and her stories wisely tally net costs of failing to take care of numero uno.
Read more "New Review: Rattle of Want | Gay Degani"New Fiction: Joseph Conrad Took Twenty-Five Years to Bust My Balls, That Twit | Jellyfish Review
Over time, I permitted the Russian to border-cross my thoughts.
Read more "New Fiction: Joseph Conrad Took Twenty-Five Years to Bust My Balls, That Twit | Jellyfish Review"New Fiction: Sugar | New South Journal
Clio told me to sit straight and eat my peas that meal: I knew how to make that folded toy, from memory, only that once.
Read more "New Fiction: Sugar | New South Journal"New Fiction: Hamartia Lippincott | Pure Slush
My phone was pinging and whistling and popping with analyst notifications and team updates all morning, but then I remembered that waltz.
Read more "New Fiction: Hamartia Lippincott | Pure Slush"Short Story: Jean, 1948 | Change Seven Magazine
Brad stepped over to where we sisters sat, like two old price tags from last season’s sale we must have looked, although Wynne looked wound up in that way that tempted Brad. I French inhaled without looking at him. He deviled Wynne, placed the dirty ashtray near her. “You might need this,” he said, and went back to bartending. I saw the lipstick. Rat.
Read more "Short Story: Jean, 1948 | Change Seven Magazine"
Anne Elizabeth Weisgerber 