map Macro-Fiction Archives

Pap Pap on Penn Avenue

Issue No. 189 ~ February, 2013

Pap Pap’s glasses, the brown rectangles, catch every cent of the sun, its whole worth. They cast a pale mirror as if looking through a beer bottle. But on the inside? Pap Pap can’t see.

RE: Ryan’s Spirit Lives ON IN ALL OF US

Issue No. 188 ~ January, 2013

In theory, each Sigma 09’ has memorized a line from the St. Crispin Day speech in Henry V, supposedly Ryan’s favorite play, although this claim remains unsubstantiated and highly suspect as far as I’m concerned. Stephen Thayer, our class’s Grand Procurator, was “one hundred fuckin’ percent” that he’d heard Ryan mention it “at some point Freshman year.”

The King of Ivy

Issue No. 188 ~ January, 2013

The area had been created at the end of the nineteenth century, and the rows of terraces had an unappealing uniformity. The story of this street was part of the estate agent blurb. The Master Builder had planted a tub of ivy against the wall of his house at the top of the street at the top of the hill.

For George

Issue No. 188 ~ January, 2013

And so began George’s career. Boxes would appear daily, at least one somewhere among the eight floors. More often than not a sticky note would boldly declare its intended destiny, sometimes with an added “Thanks!” The basement floor was flooded with these, due to their brief half-life of stickiness.

Chase

Issue No. 187 ~ December, 2012

My father was a great teacher of terrible lessons, and consequently couldn’t be trusted to teach me anything correctly. I discovered this in third grade when I found out they are not called “smashed potatoes.”

Plastique

Issue No. 186 ~ November, 2012

Bobby looped her arm awkwardly, and Sheena couldn’t help thinking how tense he was. Rigid was more the word. The car was convertible, and she didn’t think about looking at the make, but it was fast. Bobby grabbed the wheel with a wicked look on his face.

Things He Should Know

Issue No. 186 ~ November, 2012

The heart breaks harder when it isn’t expecting to be broken and mine wasn’t; I didn’t think I’d mind. I was hard by then.

Animal Comforts

Issue No. 185 ~ October, 2012

As I searched, I began to feel disoriented. The streets and alleys began to blend into each other. The pastel houses were all washed with my tears and the blisters on my feet had broken.

Storage Locker 212

Issue No. 185 ~ October, 2012

It is hard to believe that Sammy is “coughing in children’s hair,” but I will take your word for it.