Fiction

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Angel’s Left

1 "Doggy, dear," says Kari Moore, "fetch mommy up another ocean." "Make it two," says Deb Trigaboff. "Three," says Marguerite Mauvoisin. "Five," says Tristram le Brun, the wickedest of the wicked wives club. Kari has grounded her stepson Doug—aka Dougie, then Doggy, Mutt and Biatch and variables thereof and beyond as the day grinds on—on […]

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Why I Went to Portugal

Katy and Kyle suggested I take language lessons, but I wasn’t going to Portugal to talk. I would speak as I ate and slept—not deliberately; indiscriminately and disjointedly; between slugs of fizzy wine and lungfuls of potent Moroccan hashish; almost by accident. Dee, my girlfriend at the time, joked I was off to try my […]

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Constant, Steady Strokes

Then comes the part when I say, "Boy, you have to lie."

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Passion and Apathy

Wake up naked, alone, under a cosmos of faintly glowing star stickers. I am in Betsy’s bed. My bad. But where is she?

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“this own-lee”

That coffee you drank, you’re sort of half-wondering whether it will go better with champagne than toothpaste and orange juice, but you can’t put too much thought into it now as there is a hungry demon on your windowsill doing business as a nut-obsessed squirrel you’d like to photograph. Besides, the meat of your proposal […]

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While You Were Out

While you were out the world exploded, and I, at the time, was home, so I will be gone by the time you return.

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The Herds are Charging Through the Room

Mother is crying. They have sensed something sinister, some danger perhaps: the snarl of a lion, the lurk of a predator on the prowl. Or maybe they have detected some force we cannot discern, some signal portending events more apocalyptic: the trembling of the earth, the violent belching of a not-too-distant volcano. They could not […]

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The Bloodsucker of Nagasaki

Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead? —1 Corinthians 15:29 There’s a vampire in my background. He has stalked me all my life, but he failed to fix his fangs in my jugular until, like an […]

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Underneath the Griffin Tree

Wasn’t just a few years ago I liked to lie under the Griffin tree. Least that’s how it was known back then. A big ol’ shady tree in the middle of a field where I’d go a-rompin’ with the boys, givin’ ’em of my sweetness, robbin’ ’em of that last bit of innocence they pretended […]

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    Identity Theory publishes fiction from new and up-and-coming writers, with special attention paid to promoting strong literary voices. To contribute a short story, read our fiction submission guidelines.