Category: Nonfiction

Recrudescence

Annie Lampman A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty. —Philippe Ariès I. May 19, 1980: grey ash falling like a dirty, late spring snowstorm in northern Idaho, shuttering...

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Stone Cold Steve Austin Cannot Be Forgotten

Brian Oliu   What you want to know is who was my favorite. What you hear is not what you want to hear—a name that means nothing as it was born from something pressing—a technician with a...

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Trompe L’Oeil

2017 Nonfiction Award Winner, Chosen by Elena Passarello Liz Asch   The apartment we’ve rented for the remainder of our stay in New York is on the fifteenth floor, with a perfect view of the...

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TIME TO BLEED

Ander Monson   Things keep happening outside my screen. In 1993 the Michigan Militia guy I work with in Electronics at Walmart tries to recruit me—unsuccessfully. The video he showed me does...

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To Finally Embrace Living

Nick Kowalczyk   That Tuesday morning I awoke with an aching body and yellow shit clumped around my eyes and caked across my temples like two dried-out streams during a summer drought. It was...

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TIME TO BLEED

Ander Monson No one talks enough about how Schwarzenegger looks on-screen. Or how his face is lit in every shot: one sees what California did in him to make him governor. In 1987 I would have...

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In Flight

Brenda Miller and Julie Marie Wade   My brother-in-law, who flies planes for a living, tells me that no one can die in the sky. “But people die everywhere,” I protest.  “That’s the...

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Clevelanding

Betty Rosen   I learned “city” from Cleveland and its drone of heart-rot, clotting-rust hopelessness. I still read in its script of nostalgia. Its bridges crash down into silver water,...

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Wake Up Call

Steven Church   Fort Collins, CO 1999   Where’s the baby? I called out in the dark. Half asleep, I sat up in bed. Where’s the baby? I asked again. I’d been troubled recently...

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On Words, Like Wanderings

Jill Talbot and Justin Lawrence Daugherty   i. North Country For a while I lived along the Canadian border. Never crossed it, though it felt like it on snowy nights I’d settle into corner...

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