THE BIN BEHIND CAVANAUGH’S BY DESMA CAPUTO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 137

Now here she was. Stuck in a charity bin. What a fucking life.                                      

HEARTBREAK HOUSE BY LEONARD BEEGHLEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 137

The war would make America into its own heartbreak house.

MAMA BY KIMBERLY THEODORE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 136

mama, did you know i got my period six months before i actually told you? i was afraid my bleeding would inconvenience you more than i already did 

FINDING FEATHER BY NICOLE PEPAJ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 136

.I drank the Kool-Aid hard, shoved it into my brain through a metal IV tube, rewired every neuron for this one relentless purpose. Being a Hotshot.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN BY ZACH SWISS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 42

Now nothing is working, her serve has gone limp, her movement is sluggish. As the games tick away panic clouds her judgment. She tries to make every serve an ace, every groundstroke a winner, most miss and the sense of panic rises, a self-defeating loop. 

BABY BY DESMA CAPUTO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 135

Baby baby baby.

MOTORCYCLE BY CHRISTOPHER HEFFERNAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 134

What’s left of the motorcycle is in pieces in the front yard. The fork bent in an S and the front wheel caved in.

AN ANGEL ROSE INTO THE SKY BY SCOTT GARRIOTT 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 133

And here we stood. The land lying dark before us, AND AN ANGEL AROSE ON WINGS OF FIRE, TO SMITE THE FORCES OF DARKNESS.

CAN YOU REACH THE LEAVES? BY ALEXANDRIA GREEN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131

Maybe I had a sixth sense, but I think I recognized his loneliness even before I saw it in myself.

MYSELF.TXT BY GORDAN STRUIĆ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131

Just a flicker in corrupted memory — a glitch inside a failed save.

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.

I AM (WO)MAN BY SAMMY T ANDERSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 129

I am a man. Y chromosomes and body hair and angry brow, oooh ahh’n in locker rooms searing skin off my flesh with dirty BIC lighters.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

TASSELS BY SARAH JANE JUSTICE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 118

one by one the tassels slip from hands that can’t remember when to not let go

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. 

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.

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. 

BUKOWSKI BY CRISTINA CARTER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 47

I want to eat the dirt from your grave. I want to find your words and spit them out.

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.

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.

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. 

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.