Dec 13, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
The Professor waits at the backdoor of the slaughterhouse. The air is thick with morning fog. That’s the way it is in Vienna. That’s the way it is around slaughterhouses. Always fog. Who has ever seen a slaughterhouse in a gentle breeze and sunshine? No one. He...
Dec 12, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
It’s 2:00 AM. You wake me and Anna up in the middle of the night. There’s no explanation offered, just a rushed demand. We don’t think anything of it. You’re our dad. You wake us up to watch Disney movies all night in the summer or in the middle of the night when...
Dec 12, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
First rolling up the pant-legs of his corduroys to his knees, then pulling on his beige windbreaker, leaving it open over his enormous stomach, and then walking, walking, walking slowly in the low-tide sands of the Northern German shore? My father looks like a royal...
Dec 12, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
The picture and notice of my uncle Gottfried’s passing is the latest addition to the album of Our Departed. We, my mother and I, collect the death notices of our deceased in this special book. We keep tabs on those who’ve left us behind. From the outside, the album...
Dec 12, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
“What did you say?” I turned my head to Danny, watched as he drained the life out of the cigarette trembling in his bruised hands. Smoke quick-stepped around his sharp jawline and five o’clock shadow before dissipating into the night. He extended his hand, offering me...
Dec 12, 2014 | Fall/Winter 2014, Prose
Thank god the first week is over and I’m finally in bed. I roll from my side onto my back and look towards the ceiling. The paint is peeling off, little broken piece by little-broken piece. It’s nothing bizarre, just chipped paint. My roommate’s quiet, slow breathing...
