Hatch watched the lone fly coming straight for him. It stopped its diving assault just short of the tip of his fishing pole and hovered watchfully.
Ingvill Berntsen was the only person in Trinity Lutheran Church. She liked praying alone with her God, liked being able to hear the faint echoes of her whispered prayers.
For summer, with the help of six excellent stories, I have decided to either spoil your downtime entirely (mischievous waggling of eyebrows allowed to grow wild for the occasion) or to urge you to enjoy it all the more. This issue we immerse readers in a melange of imagining and recollection ranging from surreal Manga-esque […]
Nothing dies like in the movies. Nothing goes that quickly or quietly.
The day Hiroki and Fumio found the cat and its litter in the trash NHK News broadcast a fire raging in Kawagoe’s Old Town district. Choppers circled around the building, a wooden Edo-era bell tower, as it was reduced to ashes.
Within the cracks of the walls I discovered these messages written on scraps of paper. Scribbled with the most curious and foolish phrases I had ever moved my eyes across, these notes were apparently nothing more than hidden graffiti. Or were they?
Illustration by Sue Babcock
The photo Ayumi Maeda took rests on her kitchen table. It shows a hostile young woman, approximately seventeen, crouching in a Cat Street alley behind one of Harajuku’s countless, infamous shops.
There’s nothing like a beach at night, when thoughts and the sounds of the ocean echo off each other in darkness. I’m standing on the edge of a very capricious line that divides water and sand.
Gary cradled a Johnny Walker Red on ice as the place began to fill up. Above the cash register, a lighted Budweiser sign rotated lethargically in an endless cycle.
t was hot.
Climbing buildings, roots deep in the underbelly of the city’s financial heart.