The Journal

Legal. Tender. by Susan Scutti

I watch them move like two planets orbiting one another — rarely touching, rarely looking into one another’s eyes. When at times their eyes meet, it seems as though too much meaning is in the look they share to be necessary for the stuff of daily living…

The Dwindling of a Torrid Relationship by Owen Goodwyne

I’m not busy for the first ten-minute span since eight this morning. The whirring in my head dissipates; the centrifuge has been idle for an hour. Tuesdays and Thursdays, six to midnight, I work this lab to pay rent—nine-hundred monthly for a subterranean cubicle with access to a stove, sink, commode, work table and a stall meant to be a shower. Despite the ban on overnight guests, it’s a bargain because I have the visual use of a large room with stored furniture and racks of a former tenant’s art.

What Was Her Name? by Nick R. Robinson

I’d learned from personal experience that life was hardscrabble. Pops always said, “Shit that don’t kill you will only make you stronger.” She would be stronger after today, I told myself. Still, I needed to hear her voice again…

The Gleaners by Marjorie Robertson

It all started when Baba came home from Cairo. That was when you got those crazy ideas, they say. At night in the coolness of our stone house the soft roar of trucks on the highway to Rabat came and went like ocean waves, and we whispered to one another through the curtain separating our rooms.

Montreal, Eventually by Gary Berg

The old man behind the wheel wore a John Deere baseball cap and eyed me. “Montreal, that’s a long way from Vegas.” I pushed my backpack down between my feet and looked for a seat belt. “I’m learning that.”

Sinker by R.S. Paulette

See, my father was alien to me, with his barrel chest and his big game magazines spread across his coffee table. He was the kind of man who bought the same baseball cap he saw Bill Dance wear on television. How he could stand smoking these horrible, unfiltered Camels—which, incidentally, gave him a thick, hacking cough—I’ll never know.

Rejected Buzzfeed Questions by Paul Lander

Which character are you from the sitcom Joey?

Hunger by Tony Press

Jenny falls asleep mid-murmur while my eyes trace the ceiling shadows. Her body curves outward from mine. Under her pillow, our left hands join. Her other hand, the only uncovered part of her, ventures a few inches into the night…

Chuan by Cathy Adams

Chuan was angry, so angry she forgot her English. She ran from her house thinking in her own tongue, not his, not when she was this angry. She was in a town where she couldn’t get lost. Or rather, she shouldn’t. It was dangerous to get angry and lost in a town that was his, the one he grew up in, his people, his country…

A Town Without Sequins by Zak Block

If the E train passes through Elmhurst station, does it not stand to reason that no train whatsoever stops there? I had this revelation long after I’d discovered that not only is Philadelphia an hour’s leisurely drive from the heart of Manhattan, but so are Washington, D.C., Boston and Baltimore. Cincinnati, Chicago, Indianapolis, Detroit, about two hours. Albeit that I’m never going to see these places, still is this incalculably useful information…

  • The SFWP Journal was founded in 2002 and is home to an eclectic group of authors. The journal's mission is to recognize excellence in writing and provide a voice for the SFWP community. Find out more about us right here. Interested in writing for SFWP? Please visit the submissions page for more information.

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