Category: Print Archives

Fiction from The Future: “Old Faithful” by Nathan Dragon

He’d say if maybe he got a new one, he’d be able to get some work done. The desk chair was a pain in his ass. Couldn’t sit right and couldn’t work right. Always something, Rosie would say, whenever he complained. He just couldn’t get comfortable in the damn chair, no matter how he’d adjusted…
The Future: “Women with Runes,” a short story by Michelle Dove

Independence It is here—the celebration of our country’s birth—and the heat is a trillion or two trillion degrees. To stay cool, we wear our chamber suits and sit far enough from each other so the sweat doesn’t spread, only localizes within our individual suits and runs between our thighs where nobody sees. The musicians take…
The Future: Three Poems by Holly Day

Despite My Reservations Regarding the Apocalypse the dragon outside my bedroom window tells methat the end is coming soon, that it’s okay to get drunkfucked up, fuck around, because it’s all going to come crashing downso very soonthat there’s no reason to practice prudence or prudishness. it blinks its giganticblue-green eyes at me through the…
Four Poems from The Future by Jim Redmond

Aperture I don’t know why I had to start doubting GodI thinkit might have something to do with the governmentsomething about the redshiftI think many strange things I have not thoughtbeforemany small mothscovering my facethe lengthof their tongueslike what it mustfeel like to have skinsearching across methe life expectancyof so many lonely starsthat I don’t…
Fiction from The Future: “Dog Days” by Michael Chin

From back before all the dogs were gone, I remember Waffles. The first time Waffles stole a waffle from Dad’s plate (the reason we renamed him from Rover). Waffles barking from the far side of the front door when I keyed into the house. The way Waffles smelled when he was wet—moist and mildew-y in…
“The Burial Party”: Vol. 9 Original Fiction by Adrian Van Young

In her invalid’s bunk on the steamer Virginia, the Nurse cannot stop throwing up. When the boat is in motion, it does not afflict her. She could stand on the prow with her face in the wind. But when the steamboat lies at anchor in the hot airlessness of the day, churning faintly, the Nurse’s…
“The Man Who Smells of Lemons”: A Poem from the Future by Jude Marr

The man who smells of lemons dresses in brown and red. He stands, still as a bleeding tree, in a city parking lot. Every day he plants himself in his usual spot, where tarmac cracks radiate outward from his feet, like roots. Every day he stands and waits for a white-hot sun to crack open…
Three Verses from the Vortex(t): Poetry from the Future by Jake Syersak

Identity Vortex [ “Can Rivers Be People Too? : Inside the Radical Movement to Gain Rights for Ecosystems—and Save the Environment.” (THE NEW REPUBLIC: May. 9. 2018) ] that this garden should fall may it fall less the weight of a sigh & more the weight of scythes the rivers read the lips of…
A Story from The Future: “Affliction” by Angela Woodward

I have fled to a floating island of trash to tell you stories of the peaceful north woods. Here’s one—A man woke up early, disturbed by his uneasy conscience, and went down to the stream. It was still so dark, the path appeared as a blacker indentation in the ground, the leaves and sticks and mud…