RIVER STYX ONLINE

FICTION

HEATWAVE
Fiction Simone Martel Fiction Simone Martel

HEATWAVE

“Vicky Carrillo, Carlos Carrillo, and their two kids had been living in their little rental house for five years when Gloria Donne bought the house next door, along with the field behind it, and started her organic tomato farm.”

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CUSTOMER SERVICE
Fiction Sofi Stambo Fiction Sofi Stambo

CUSTOMER SERVICE

“My grandma Borka referred to one’s other half as an esh, or more precisely iesh, because people in the part of Bulgaria closer to Russia speak in that dialect, softly. Iesh means the second thing in a pair…”

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GARDEN ELECTRICITY
Fiction Tom Sokolowski Fiction Tom Sokolowski

GARDEN ELECTRICITY

“Hand bleeding, he grabs the broken neck of the bottle then tipsily conducts glass shards, cat hair, and spaghetti bits to a pan.”

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CHARACTERS
Fiction Charles Israel Jr. Fiction Charles Israel Jr.

CHARACTERS

“Tonight, I’m in my gazebo that sits on a spit of land, narrow as a writing brush, that juts into the pond. No typing on screens tonight. My wine cup of white celadon sits on its matching saucer.”

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BROOD
Fiction Charles Israel Jr. Fiction Charles Israel Jr.

BROOD

‘We’re here to find a suitable mirror,’ we say to the salesman (Kensington fils from his nametag).”

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ESCUDEROS
Fiction L. Vocem Fiction L. Vocem

ESCUDEROS

“‘Silencio, everyone, listen,’ Señor Mejias said, looking across his living room filled with young men and women holding the materials to make shields, masks, and banners.”

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THE GRAIN ELEVATOR
Fiction R.M. Fradkin Fiction R.M. Fradkin

THE GRAIN ELEVATOR

“In the elder night when wheat hide their spotty heads below their wings, we climb the grain elevator, scratching up the side of each bin, which contains enough grain, teeming like locusts, to drown us like the bad guys in Witness.”

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THE PATENT GUY
Fiction Gemini Wahhaj Fiction Gemini Wahhaj

THE PATENT GUY

Among his classmates from his alma mater, the Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology (BUET), he was a legend, the guy who had made it. At forty, Mirza was head of his division at a multinational engineering company in Houston, with fifty engineers working under him. His salary was half a million dollars. He lived in a one-point-two-million-dollar home in The Woodlands, built on a two-acre lot that backed onto woods.

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LEST SHE GO OFF
Fiction Meera Rohit Kumbhani Fiction Meera Rohit Kumbhani

LEST SHE GO OFF

When dad left to go live with a Ruby Tuesday’s waitress, the house felt dank and cavernous––like an empty dragon’s lair where helpless worms wriggled about, wondering what to do now that their beast was dead. Mom filled the void with reality television, volume set to MAX. She sat on the brown plaid couch in an unlit living room from morning to night and hunched forward until her glasses were two feet from the screen. The more sexual the show the closer mom’s face was pulled into it. 

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GUEST OF HONOR
Fiction Katya Apekina Fiction Katya Apekina

GUEST OF HONOR

Creating stresses in the social fabric was one of Fräulein Agata’s great joys, so when the general’s friend, a society lady, asked her to bring the school’s top students, my German teacher brought us instead. None of us marriageable by real standards—me, basically a penniless orphan, Hanna, not a student and Jewish enough not to mix her milk and her meat, and Olga, with a pince-nez and stern expression that Freud would have described as castrating. It’s possible Elsie was with us too. I keep forgetting about her.

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BRANCHES OF THE SERVICE
Fiction Fortunato Salazar Fiction Fortunato Salazar

BRANCHES OF THE SERVICE

The attaché looked out the window and knew that something was wrong about the wing. He absolutely knew. But he couldn’t say what he knew other than he knew and that he couldn’t say what he knew.

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CYPRUS
Fiction Anca Fodor Fiction Anca Fodor

CYPRUS

Cyprus was my Amazonas. Humidity uprooted all kinds of fragrances from the scorched earth and hung them in the air like clothes on the line. Humidity, then aridity. It messed up the senses. It raised the sex drive in beings and non-beings alike.

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THE LAST THURSDAY OF THE CENTURY
Fiction Parastoo Geranmayeh Fiction Parastoo Geranmayeh

THE LAST THURSDAY OF THE CENTURY

As winter nears its end, the sky acts like a lunatic, its behavior mirroring the chaos of Iranian lives preparing for Nowruz. When you think that spring has arrived, snow appears outside the window, causing confusion between Nowruz and Christmas. One can only hope that an evening thunderstorm doesn’t kill the newly planted violets. Perhaps the sky is reflecting on the past year; Saturday thinking about summer, Wednesday evoking the memories of autumn. Maybe it’s showing its sense of humor in preparation for the upcoming Nowruz. Either way, the old adage rings true: “The sky goes crazy before Nowruz,” making it difficult to predict what the afternoon will bring based on the morning.

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