Rumpus Original Fiction: April, 1968
Used to see lots of psychedelic princes and princesses on Haight Street. Not many these days. But here were hundreds of the turned on and tuned in, dressed like birds and peacocks in heat.
Fiction
220 posts
Rumpus Original Fiction: State Facts for the New Age
“I’m a shock absorber for tragedy,” I say, not really knowing what I mean. “Maybe I should just move to Hawaii. I hear that’s a happy place to live.”
Rumpus Original Fiction: Mandarin Imperial
Growing up, I understood my father through observation, and I suspect that he understood me much the same way. I liked to think our love was purer that way. Like two stray dogs who found each other and are blessed enough to just get along.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Monkey Men
Still lying on the bed in the Wausau hotel room, I started counting ceiling tiles. From above the covers. Not under. Never under. I always feel constricted, under.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Rhino Girl
But these were not men, she realized. They were a cackle of spotted hyena, bright-toothed in the dark, and they were laughing at her.
Rumpus Original Fiction: On Documentation
What is it like to be you? he was always asking, in his way, and it seemed a stupid question then. I didn’t know. I could lie better than I could tell the truth. I hadn’t left yet.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Service Area
Even though the summer customers were the worst, always impatient on their way west to the places of her dreams, she envied them.
Rumpus Original Fiction: As Soon as I Stop
I feel dizzy, but I've got the donkey's tail in my hand and if I pin it just right, my whole life could change.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Swans and Other Lies
As she presses against Patterson, she feels her feet softening, losing gravity. He’s embracing her, willing her to disappear, swallowing her.
Rumpus Original Fiction: The Ghosts of St. Louis
If I was a ghost, I wouldn’t want nothing to do with the world that killed me.
Rumpus Original Fiction: People and Oranges and People
Something must remain of me, of course. Someone has to lock the door behind us when we go out.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Grow
I look like springtime, everyone agrees. Soon I’ve added a pair of gloves, brand new, but stomped in the dirt for authenticity’s sake.