
The opening band sounds like Dick Dale on downers. Dual vocalists split the front of the stage. The hipster, stage-left, plays rhythm, mic on distortion.
The Dig - Greater Boston's Alternative News Source
Written by MARY SWITALSKI Filed Under: FEATURES, Fiction
The opening band sounds like Dick Dale on downers. Dual vocalists split the front of the stage. The hipster, stage-left, plays rhythm, mic on distortion.
Written by BEN HINSHAW Filed Under: FEATURES, Fiction
Her commitment had been total until, during one of four weekly after-class sessions, she lost concentration when her coach’s interest diverted visibly to a younger girl stretching on a nearby mat.
He was just getting seriously into weight training and his body was bulging in unexpected places we’d discover together.
Written by CADY VISHNIAC Filed Under: FEATURES, Fiction
YOUR FIRST MESSAGE is from some kid who only just gained the right to drink in bars this past November, and what he writes to you is I like older women.
Submit your fiction to DigBoston + Slush Pile Magazine here.
Written by MARION BRIGHT Filed Under: FEATURES, Fiction
YOU WERE BORN the day the IRA kidnapped Shergar. The radio reported it, and the t.v. did, too. The midwife suspected that the Russians had taken him.
ONE DECEMBER SUNDAY, just two weeks before Christmas, Rose and Mark came home to discover Gretl alone in the yard, surrounded by trails of sticky black hair and a tangle of grayish, gnawed up bones. Hans’s rat-like skull, the eyes picked clean, poked out from under a deck chair on the far side of ... read more
Written by TAK TOYOSHIMA Filed Under: FEATURES, Fiction
“Tough life out here, huh, boy?” She stroked his ears, his thoughts moving up through her hands. He was old, and it hurt to swallow. He had run away from a man who came home drunk some nights and kicked him. It made her throat tighten and her eyes wet. “That’s bad. I’m really sorry.” Some people fed him, but mostly he ate garbage, and he hurt every night when it got cold. He hurt all the time. He wanted peace, and he looked right into her face to say it.
BY HAYES MOORE
MY SUPER-HUSBAND just sent me an interesting article. I call Paul my Super-Husband because he is both my supervisor and my husband. And because it is poetic.
The email said:
juliet—article below mentions a kid from your high school class. ... read more