map Macro-Fiction Archives

Seethaler’s Perfect Cake

Issue No. 240 ~ May, 2017

Mr. Drake sat on a lone bench facing the east river—the same bench on which he always read his books, smoked his cigarettes, and watched the boats pass. Mr. Drake spent the first half of …

What Happens Before We Are Born

Issue No. 240 ~ May, 2017

  There’s a myth recalling an old man with dark skin and thin, white hair, who was good and wise in his day and only got wiser, got so wise he started having visions in …

It Came in the Mail

Issue No. 240 ~ May, 2017

“Darn Billy. Told him to stop sending me things,” I said to no one but myself, and the package that I eyed critically. The package sat on my front porch, strapped to the gills with …

Horned Owl and the Silver Flute

Issue No. 240 ~ May, 2017

When the earth was youthful a wood grew upon it, and beside that wood a village was built. In the wood there lived the Horned Owl and in the village there lived a young woman …

Hide and Seek

Issue No. 239 ~ April, 2017

  Once she got home, she climbed into the wardrobe. Closing the door behind her so that no light could reach in, she settled down on her side upon the wooden shelf, usually saved for …

The Spider with Seven Legs

Issue No. 239 ~ April, 2017

The afternoon light penetrates the parlour curtains and irritates me. Flickering on my eyelids, the red-white on and off wakes me. Red. Heat. White. Cool. The custard-thick air is hard to breathe. The last strands …

A Peashooter on a Battleship

Issue No. 239 ~ April, 2017

Benicio’s near-death experience didn’t come with blurry, never-ending tunnels in decorative shades of pearly-white, nor did the whole of his past life flash through his mind in the space of a nanosecond. He did, however, …

Vernacularism’s Manifesto

Issue No. 239 ~ April, 2017

No more mixing it up. No more starting in the middle. No more, ‘them and us.’ In his own time, Cartier stood outside the gray army barracks in Battersea, London, and looked up at the …

π

Issue No. 238 ~ March, 2017

Muffled excitement murmurs from the floor below, but Mathew drowns it out with his thoughts. Alone in his childhood bedroom, he twirls a mini Eiffel Tower figurine between his fingers. His jacket lies slung on …