Rumpus Original Fiction: Lifers
We were beginning to exist on the periphery of our own lives.
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Posts Tagged: Rumpus Original Fiction
Rumpus Original Fiction: Flap
A flap to determine entry, or deny it. A flap whose failure determines choking.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: An Other Man
This is a carousel that never slows to a point where you can board gracefully.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Beginnings
It is often a curse, this imagination of mine. Life pales in comparison.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Three Flash Fictions by Maggie Cooper
Will you join us? When you are ready, lie down to rest.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Lavaliere
Every monster has a history with another monster.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Basement
Looking back, it feels like I knew.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Any Good Wife
Airong’s voice was stern, matter-of-fact. “I’m pregnant.”
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Rumpus Original Fiction: What Kind of Love Is That?
Nothing in Texas came easy.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: New Hallways, New Doors
Now it is nearly fall, and the baby is small and pink.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: All Good Things Come to an End
I didn’t feel bad about lying because the truth would have hurt her.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Marnie Marie Lit a Match
The only way to guarantee a secret is for the only person to know about it be you.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Earth Revolves around the Sun
I imagined myself from the outside: the picture of a woman waiting.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Today, You’re a Black Revolutionary
The important thing to remember when climbing a pole, a rope, a mountain is to not look down.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Lacking World
I acted childishly. But, in my defense, it was childish only if we actually lived in a world where Shakespeare had never existed.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: She Hated the Child
She didn’t want anything to change. She understood it would be easier if she loved the child. But she did not want to love it.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: RememberYou
They had begun studying memory hoping to find a cure for Alzheimer’s, the doctor explains. But instead, they found other results.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Drink the Wine That Moves You
Were they all just kittens, really, the comfort of their warm blood the only defense between life and a dump in the river?
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Even the Moon
When you finished, several minutes passed before we spoke. You dipped a finger in a pool of candle wax. How could I know this was the only real secret you’d ever kept?
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Handsome Cab
A warm wash of confidence came over me. You don’t really know who you are until you know which car you’re following.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Rebecca
Grace shook her head, surprised by both her reluctance to speak and her impulse to lie. She had seen many photos of Rebecca.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Typhoon is a Hurricane
She tried her best to be clinical, but his dreaming scared her, made her think of ghosts and aswang stealing pieces of her—little bit by little bit.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: One of Them Dies
We seldom forget when people promise to give us something, whether we need or want that thing or not. I promise you death, you want a death.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Earthworms
In one dream, I was naked and they crawled inside my belly button. I felt them wiggling inside my stomach. When I woke up, the place between my legs was damp.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: No Good
The sounds that she would expect here are entirely absent. There are no cries, no weeping. Just soothing, muffled tones.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Seasonal Work
[T]he thing about Gary was that he could believe what he needed to believed when he needed to believe it. So, technically, he never lied.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: City of Foundlings
What makes him think she’s in any less pain? Because hers isn’t prolonged by uncertainly, isn’t moored by hope.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Prescriptions
I wore sobriety like a shirt that was too tight in the shoulders, and everyone around me knew it.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: My Name Is Jean-Pierre and I Am Still an End Table
I am glad to be free of that tyrant, even if it means I am an end table waddling inch-by-inch down this path on a foolish mission that might prove impossible. I may be an end table, but at least I am free.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Whole World Is Desert
This is what I want him to think of me. The girl poised to surf a wave under the heaviness of the full moon, the ocean around her radiant with light.
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