Author: Heavy Feather
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“Suite Polonaise,” a generational serial killer enquiry by Carrie Laben
Part 1: Cecelia As a child I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t love my grandmother. Everyone else loved their grandparents. But Cecelia Laben (or Labenski) (nee Trybusckewicz) confused me. She alarmed me. At least once, she kind of technically kidnapped me. And then there was the fact that she lied.…
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Flash Fiction: “The Fire” by Matthew Meriwether
She sees a fire in the huge dark field to the left of the road we’re driving down. Do you see that fire? she says. I look ahead of me, I look up—all the wrong directions. I see the moon, that white fire, which is bright and full, unblinking. Why were we talking about fire?…
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Andrew Farkas: “The Great Indoorsman, Part the First,” a serialized essay
“Look at it, Hastings. Not a building insight. Not a restaurant, not a theatre, not anart gallery. A wasteland.” —Hercule Poirot in“The Adventure of the Clapham Cook” The Great Indoorsman PART THE FIRST From A Philosophy of the Indoors—The Sublime: I often find myself in awe of the grandeur of the Indoors … An excerpt…
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Our Pool Party Bus Forever Days, short stories by David James Keaton, reviewed by Jason Teal
Never mind that his introduction of best car chase cinema (“Gasoline Dreams”) is worth the price of admission, David James Keaton is a bizarrely prolific writer who gets slept on beyond our genre congregation, and this is the world’s biggest shame. I’m here to expose the wrongdoings of we vapid readers, and to provide recognition…
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Essay: “If you really wanted to hear the news, you would take a walk through the city” by Tameca L Coleman
If you really wanted to hear the news, you would take a walk through the city I’ve taken a pause on my walk, distracted with all the things I’m carrying: my messenger bag, which keeps slipping off of my right shoulder, two bags of things from Target I didn’t really mean to buy, and a…
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“A Flag Unfit to Fly,” poetry by Tim Kahl
A Flag Unfit to Fly The flag stayed up way too long and no oneknew how to properly retire it. It had beenraised too quickly. The young men in cargo pantshad not seen the skit about flag etiquette.They faced the flag and held their breath,sensing a vague feeling within themselvesit should not hang in the…
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Two Poems by Nina Knueven
I Knew I Was O Positive When the subcutaneous purple balloonslocked up, guardingmy perforated veins. Universalresponsibility doesn’t articulate from head to toe,but from the thoracic cavity itself—flushing and swooshingin hostile torrents. Needles glint and bags are gratifiedwith new feed—teethy eyesmoving like meat grinders.Visceral tissues pump & pumpto catch up—inflating, deflating,& I’m turned on, thinking of…
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Killing Poppy, a novel by William Perk, reviewed by Paul Dee Fecteau
When we tell stories about addiction, two well-worn narratives hold sway. In one, addicts personify failure, debasing themselves in the face of the glory of the American Dream. In the other, they embody nobility, struggling against a darkness not of their own making. In Killing Poppy, published in September by Apocalypse Party, William Perk savages…
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Zuri Etoshia Anderson Reviews On the Bitch, a summer flash novella by Matt Potter
What does it mean to have a stable marriage or romantic relationship? What does it mean to be a parent? What is it like to be a citizen in a foreign country? Matt Potter addresses these themes and more with his summer novella On the Bitch. Hugh, a middle-aged English teacher to immigrants, and his…
Heavy Feather Review 