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Her happy life vanishes forever.

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NIGHTSHIFT BY LINDSAY SMITH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 125

Renata starts the four-wheel drive, doesn’t see Little Josh tottering in the driveway, doesn’t hear him yelling, mummy wait.

Was she talking with the pill fairy?

HADAS DE LA PILDORA BY BJ TAYLOR 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 125

Don’t tell me that I should keep it.

They talked about how the world was getting worse.

TERRIBLE FOR THE BIRDS BY WILLIAM TAMPLIN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 125

Nathan and Yakov agreed to disagree about whether the wind turbines were terrible for birds. Trump had made the claim a few months ago–or was it already half a year ago now?–in a rather unpresidential debate with Biden.

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Sed adipiscing eget nibh at convallis. Curabitur eu gravida mauris, sit amet dictum metus. Sed a elementum arcu. Proin consectetur eros vitae odio sagittis, vitae dignissim justo sollicitudin. Phasellus non varius lacus, aliquet feugiat mauris. Phasellus fringilla commodo sem vel pellentesque. Ut porttitor tincidunt risus a pharetra. Cras nec vestibulum massa. Mauris sagittis leo a libero convallis accumsan. Aenean ut mollis ipsum. Donec aliquam egestas convallis. Fusce dapibus, neque sed mattis consectetur, erat nibh vulputate sapien, ac accumsan arcu sem quis nibh. Etiam et mi sed mauris commodo tristique. Proin mollis elementum purus, a porta quam vehicula et.
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Is your name really Sócrates Napoleón?

SÓCRATES NAPOLEÓN, YEA WHAT? BY DIEGO ALEJANDRO ARIAS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 125

Kids in middle school avoided me. My closest friend was HBO. My only social life was logging on the internet and pretending to be someone else. 


34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 125

HADAS DE LA PILDORA BY BJ TAYLOR, TERRIBLE FOR THE BIRDS BY WILLIAM TAMPLIN, SÓCRATES NAPOLEÓN, YEA WHAT? BY DIEGO ALEJANDRO ARIAS, NIGHTSHIFT BY LINDSAY SMITH.

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So whatchya wanna do now?

ONE MOMENT TO THE NEXT BY DAVID LANGLINAIS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 122

That whole day she had said he needed to get out of his comfort zone more, that it’d be for his own good. She seemed to get a kick out of embarrasing him and the more uncomfortable she made him, the more she relished it.


Grandma makes egg mcmuffins 

and lets us watch R-rated movies.

SINGLE MOMS HAVE COZY APARTMENTS BY SE DIAMOND 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 99

Since Jennifer’s mom is a biker and goes out a lot, Jennifer usually stays at her grandmother’s house where she can have a more stable childhood. I love sleeping over there because her grandma makes egg mcmuffins and lets us watch R-rated movies.

I never saw anyone looking happier.

THAT HOT LONG WEEKEND BY LINDSAY SMITH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 124

You two at the motel. Like newlyweds, looking in each other’s eyes, and holding hands, and laughing. I was jealous.


As the unimaginable reality 

of the military coup unfolded 

I wrote incessantly in my diary.

A FIRE OF MEMORIES BY AURORA LOPEZ CANCINO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17

My parents asked me to tear the pages from my journal and throw them into the fire, along with my books, magazines, and records. The fire of my memories rose in the air, leaving no trace but a black ashen place within me.



Delilah discovered this wine that’s only 14 bucks a bottle and pretty damn good.

WHAT GOOD IS LOVE BY EMILY GARCÍA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 115

By the time it’s past midnight and we’ve gone through four bottles she’s asleep on the couch.


You must like Tarantino. 

Do you like Tarantino?

JUNIOR QUENTIN BY MIKE HEPPNER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 124

I met her at work. She was a customer. Her name was Joanne. I liked her looks. I knew she was a lot older than me but I didn’t care. 


The war inside.

GRACIE ABRAMS BY WILSON ABBY COMEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 124

None of my relationships last more than a year. This one is three months.


There is still joy, life, and even hope.

DISCO ELYSIUM: FIRST AS FARCE, THEN AS SALVATION BY URIEL HERSZAGE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 124

They are transformed into the very thing that will save the world.


Ji-woo takes bites of oigochu and ssamjang, chewing so loudly that I can hear him over the restaurant din of clinking glasses and drunken laughter.

TAKING SPACE BY NATALIE MATHENY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 123

He pours shots of soju, and says, Here. Cheers to good company. I clink my glass with his and smile, knocking the shot back with little difficulty because it doesn’t taste like anything.


Acquired.

NEIGHBOR, WHERE IS THAT CUP OF SUGAR YOU BORROWED? BY MITCH ALCANTARA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 120

Do you value your phone more highly than your life?

ON THE SUBWAY TO BROOKLYN BY RICHARD ABRAMSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 122

I smash the phone as hard as I can. The glass shatters and falls away in pieces, and the guts of the thing spill out. I smash it again and the case cracks, I smash it again and it folds in on itself, and I keep smashing it, over and over and over.

You wanted something different.

A CONTINENT ENGULFED BY KATIE R MCKAY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 120

It simply feels so bittersweet that you are finally allowing yourself to live out your life in the way you have wanted for so long, and he won’t be there to see it.



Cotton tassels dangle

in the corners of a mind.

TASSELS BY SARAH JANE JUSTICE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 118

 See if god is listening. 

INTERNAL VOICES BY TRAVIS COBB 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 81

Inside this Tower of Babel where nothing gets said. Put out what you need to speak. See if god is listening. 

It is not zee tortilla. 

It is zee French crepe!

THE ANGRY CREPES OF BELLEVILLE BY EDDIE P GOMEZ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 45

When I mentioned to the man that his crepes looked like giant flour tortillas, the kind that my mom made back home, he came out from behind the three round hotplates in his booth and began to bang on a metal table with his spatulas, the same spatulas that he’d just used to flip and fold my crepe. “It is not zee tortilla, it is zee French crepe,” he yelled.

My AI partner scolds me for bad praxis.

And they’re right.

MY AI PARTNER SCOLDS ME FOR BAD PRAXIS BY SHAUN HOLLOWAY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 117

Dark Angel was the song he dedicated to Susie. 

DOWN THE ROAD A PIECE BY BERNIE HAFELI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 11

She blew him a kiss. It was like he could see it rise above the smoke and neon and glide lazily toward the stage, a rose petal in the evening breeze. Momentarily he stopped strumming, reached up and caught it.




I heard a woman say come here, Topaz.

FLOWERS IN THE HALLWAY BY ELLEN BLOOMENSTEIN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 79

I was about to knock on Sally Snow’s door, which I knew was slightly crazy, when the door opened and a Siamese cat came slithering out. “Come here, Topaz,” I heard a woman say.

It’s just like a photo, we think.

THE FLATNESS OF HYPER-REALISM BY ALLISON RICHARDS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 110

We viewers cannot paint perfect figures, so we don’t make art. We don’t have the time, so we don’t make art. We watch a video on TikTok and the end result looks more real than our goddamn reflection in the mirror, and so we don’t make art. 



Head bangin’ 

ass shakin’ balm.

PLAYLIST FOR THE WORST DAYS BY JAWNO OKHIULU 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 108

A mix of rhythm, funk, soul, and soapbox prophecy cut with love, grief, rage, and acceptance.


Pick the ending you want.

DEAD CAT BY MELVIN STERNE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 96

What’s the most likely ending? What’s the worst-case scenario? What’s the best ending? There’s a billion potential endings. Pick one.

I made it through. 

On my own.

MACHINE GIRL BY REBECCA EGAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 96

I want a signal that screams I made it through. On my own. I found a way out. 

I feel more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE ROSEMARKIE SEAL BY EMILY NEVES 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 103

I turn my back to the cave wall and look out. The slope of the hill and a little green bramble with a spray of yellow flowers partially obscures one side of the opening and on the other side I see the green-gray sea reaching to the horizon. I think I could live here if I had to. 

I closed my eyes and

tried to see life like you did.

LOVE AND PHILODENDRON BY PATRICK SEAMAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 83




We saw an old couple resting on a bench, their bodies sighing into each other, and you cried for tenderness. We saw a group of city children rooting in the mud, their faces lit with primal wonder, and you cried for innocence. You saw a row of ducklings trailing behind their mother in a sickly pond ringed with algae and you cried for motherhood.

Everything, she thought, is an accident of where you are.

STEALING HOME BY KAY BONTEMPO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 78

Two bell peppers, Muenster cheese. Cauliflower, a pack of Newports, Tampax. Martinelli’s apple juice. Paper towels two-ply. English Breakfast tea. Boil-in-a-bag rice, paper clips, ramen noodles. Maybe some ice cream if there was money left over. America’s Choice vanilla, eaten straight from the carton. It wouldn’t be bad. With an uncomfortable pop, he pulled out of her and lay beside her, breathing hard. It was 11.52pm. She wondered if the Shop’n’Save would even be open. 

You make the magic inside your head.

34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSN 1938-9329 EDITORIAL@34THPARALLEL.NET INMOTION LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA US

MAGCLOUD & SUBSTACK SAN FRANCISCO SUBMITTABLE MISSOULA MONTANA EBSCO PUBLISHING INC IPSWICH MASSACHUSETTS.