The Little Triangular Pieces of Plastic by Michael Conley

Eventually they began to overwhelm us. Granted, it was never a dull moment with them around: they were often colourful and shiny, and would reflect sunlight in pleasing, shimmering ways. But they were so floaty and easily disturbed that they’d get everywhere as soon as you walked anywhere near them. Continue reading The Little Triangular Pieces of Plastic by Michael Conley

The Man in the Rain by David Christopher Johnston

They sat in the tiny bus shelter, hoods up, huddled together to ward off the bitter wind. The whole structure shuddered and creaked like it could collapse at any moment. Nathan tore through his burger like a starved cayote devouring a fresh kill. Cassie ate hers slowly, taking small bites and savouring the taste, enjoying the warmth in her stomach. She watched Nathan shovelling food into his mouth and laughed. Continue reading The Man in the Rain by David Christopher Johnston

Quemperi by Camila Torres

Two white men arrived in Quemperi in the morning. They were two white blemishes in the perfect brown and green of the rainforest. They were no children of Mama Sacha, and their mere presence disturbed her eternal peace. To the white men, it seemed as if the grass and bushes were becoming taller and thicker; as if mosquitos’ bloodthirst was growing, biting their eyes, ears and necks; and as if the mist was becoming warmer and wetter only to suffocate their airways. Continue reading Quemperi by Camila Torres

Butterfly Stitches by Jeremiah K. Balko

Dad’s still only twenty minutes away, which is why he can still see us all the time. He’s not like these dads you hear about who don’t want their kids. Mum made it seem like she got us during the school week because she was the mum and he got us on the weekend, like it was the law. Mum doesn’t make us do chores, so we like that, and Rita would’ve picked her anyway. She hates Dad. She has no taste in things. Continue reading Butterfly Stitches by Jeremiah K. Balko