Volume 17 Number 1
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Summer Day
by Harley April

This is how the world opened up like an oyster. It was while I was walking along Seventh Avenue, somewhere in Chelsea. There was La Nouvelle Marcel. I wasn’t even sure what it was, but the chef, in his black-and-white checked pants, was outside, pretending to take a cigarette before the dinner shift. His eyes shifted about...

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Dark Face of Beauty
by Joseph M. Ditta

Like I said, it was a long time ago.  My parents had immigrated from southern Italy some ten years before.  I was born here, or, rather, in Brooklyn, in this country, I mean.  My parents never learned English very well.  They spoke to each other in their Sicilian dialect and to me and the rest of the world in a halting, nearly incomprehensible gibberish made up of English words and Sicilian grammar, with not a few words they invented themselves out of fortunate—or unfortunate—blends of the old and the new languages.”...

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Speck
by Nancy Ford Dugan

She had spindly fingers, as did all the members of her family, regardless of their size. Even the manly men had delicate digits. In fact all the Leyden boys were left-handed and this, combined with their “spider” fingers, subjected them to much ridicule during their grammar school years. In her case it resulted in many spills, constant droppage, wet glasses slipping through her useless fingers, breakage and shattered pieces of glass along the floor. She became expert ...

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His Dead Mother
by Colin Garrow
It's funny how we remember things in fragments and half-images, our minds fitting together the missing pieces in re-creations of something approaching the truth, or not, as the case may be. Like a series of old photographs, I can see Tony's house and its contents quite clearly, though I know it was most likely completely different. I remember the living room, with its solid, central dining table dominating the space, as those sort of tables did in those days, when families still ate together. I was never invited in...

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Finding Jackson Lindbecker
by Sarah Kruel

Jackson parked his truck sideways across three spaces.  He didn’t want anyone slamming into the shiny black doors. Nobody cared because there were plenty of parking spots at Clambo’s. The car hops came on roller skates and brought out the orders on trays so everybody left lots of room. He turned in his seat ...

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Phantom Light
by Kim Magowan

I could always get sick. A sudden virus: it’s worth considering.
Bad enough getting dragooned into dinner with my friend-slash-ex-girlfriend Julie and her fiance Porter, who is as handsome, plastic, and affectless as a Ken doll; now I must shop for the damn thing. “Please, I’m desperate,” Beth said on the phone an hour ago, and when I capitulated, “Awesome! Do you have a pen?” She dictated a list of ingredients for what she calls “that Cuban meat thing.”...
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A New Nomad
by Zack O’Neill

Her eyes were on the moving curtain our waitress went into, slouching, not quite at a C-shape, back upright, long golden legs straight out at an angle, looking all Hollywood with her sunglasses and picked-at salad. We’re surrounded by cracked concrete, old buildings, dry air, trees that don’t bear fruit, yellow weeds, chalky dirt...

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Fat Ass
by Marc Simon
Howard sat naked on his bed, a dingy sheet twisted around his abdomen.  It barely covered the rolls of flesh that sagged one on top of the next, like deflated inner tubes.  His stomach rumbled, a familiar calling.  He whispered a desperate mantra: “I will not eat, I will not eat, I will not eat tonight,” as his teeth clenched on a corner of the sheet....

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The Professor’s Black Veil
by Allen Frederick Stein

After my morning shave, I took one more look, a long one, into the mirror and then put on the black veil. I stared into the glass again, darkly, as it were, this time.  Through this scrim, this filter, I saw a veiled face staring back at me, but I couldn’t see its features, other than the thin lips, turned up slightly now, and the chin that I’d always thought a bit weak but that now seemed to take on a salience and solidity. I seemed all at once to have gained the gravitas that I’d always felt had inexplicably eluded me. ...

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You Must Learn the Joys of Sinning
by John Ballantine

You must learn to lie a little, bend the rules, and make the game work for you. You must learn the joys of sinning to make real money. Then we’ll wrap the sins up in a big package with smiling faces, full of giving, and art all around, and they will forget....

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I Don't Remember
by John Ballantine
I don’t remember when I first fell in love. In kindergarten I tumbled with boys and girls trying to draw parallel lines and find perspective. My lovely mouse—or was it a hamster—escaped his cage as a small hand went in to hold the soft fur. He ran quickly out of the chaos of kindergarten with 30 kids shouting, down the dark hallway, and disappeared into a far corner of the pale green gym. ...

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CL Bledsoe and Michael Gushue
My Birth as a Volcanic Island
Off The Coast Of Iceland,
Listen,
You Deserve Better

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Frank Freeman
After Cold Mountain 3,
After Cold Mountain 4,
A Sign Said

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John Grey
On Becoming an Eagle,
At the Club,
Yellow Tape

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Len Krisak
The Story of the Other
Woman,
Shits Passing in the Night,
“The More You Cross It
Out, the More It's Here”

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Rosemary Dunn Moeller
Body Piercing,
Resistance Strengthens,
Aversion Reversed

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Kenneth Pobo
Sometimes Dad
Shy,
Aunt Silkie

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Domenic Scopa
Hot Peppers,
Dementia
After a Miscarriage

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John L. Stanizzi
Dream People,
Morning

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Emily Strauss
Mother,
Summer Growth

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Ann Taylor
Cursive,
Laugh Track,
Out of Place

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Will Walton
Loss of a Bird,
And Another Weeping Woman,
Smoke Ring,
After a Party at a Friend of a Friend's,
Pair of Eyes,
Silence in March

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Autumn-Winter 2014-15 Issue of SNReview (SNR) ISSN: 1527-344X--SNReview (SNR) is a literary journal of short stories, creative non-fiction, and poetry, founded in 1999. Member of the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP), Academy of American Poets (AAP). This work, meaning SNReview.org, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.