Fiction
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The Femcel Catalog a.k.a. The Annals of Obsession
When you were younger, you learned how to hold your breath so you could crawl on the pool floor. Down there, the day sounded different, so you swam for as long as possible. The rising hum of water encircled you,…
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Eeling
Most people had stopped working. No point in making money now. Those who continued either genuinely loved what they did, or had ended up at the bottom of the waitlist and had to find ways to get by until their…
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Mother Tongue
You used to look in the mirror and your face would disassemble entirely: your eyes turning to twin river stones, your nose a stub of driftwood, the rounds of your cheeks the shells of beetles. Now there’s something more whole…
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The Rumpus Prize in Fiction, Honorable Mention: Josie Tolin
By now the night has cooled, and the dune grass rustles beneath the mills. The light clicks off on the back porch between Trent’s house and Greta’s.
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An Excerpt from “First Time, Long Time”
He was more handsome in person, somewhere in the shallow end of his sixties, wearing a soft-looking black sweater and smelling of expensive soap. I could picture the place where the soap was purchased: one of those quiet, ritzy stores…
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Rocket Drive
This is the first time I’ve witnessed a person borrow food. There are many firsts in drug addiction.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Red Zone
That night, when I confessed to never having used a tampon before, not having a mom around to explain it, Cami locked us both into a bathroom stall and showed me how.
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The Rumpus Prize in Fiction, First Place: Aimee LaBrie
The first part went as expected: the countback with the anesthesiologist, the prepping of the surgical area, the instruments arranged just so.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Ronny James
“What is that?” your mother said, taking another drag from her cigarette.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Second of April
On the third fools’ day, Ma was shrinking downward and I was floating upward.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Dead Man Sink
Bennie knew her mother wasn’t beautiful. She knew this because her mother wouldn’t swim.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Find Me in the Light
I can never figure out the right rhythm and I’m always off beat—interrupting at the wrong moment, letting the silence hang for far too long.