Original fiction from Identity Theory. Subscribe: RSS

In My Fourth Grade Life

I don’t really know how it happened, all I know is that sometime before Martin Luther King Jr. Day in fourth grade, Jillian Dafotis creeped into part of my brain that was usually occupied by comic books and my older brother’s Super Nintendo.

Rebel Without a Belt

I can't speak for the dirt-under-the-fingernails crowd, but as a white-collar working man, when I dress for work, I always include a belt. I think it says: I take this job seriously. I am a professional.


Tonight, in the sleeping bag, Mara takes off all her clothes. And that’s it: she takes off all of her clothes.

Lucky Day

Today’s my lucky day and I’m gonna take that thousand up to the Indians, triple my money on the $10 tables and Maxine’ll have birdhouses coming out her ass by tomorrow this time.

My Cherry

I didn't like Cherie at first. Her ankles were too thick, which spoke of things in other parts of her body. And she was very tan, a dark, burnt orange kind of tan, which made those ankles look like roasted meat. You don’t want a woman to be edible in that way.

Idiot Boy

For a while there the dust settled, and I thought maybe things had gotten as bad as they were going to get. But I was wrong. Now, we steal electricity.


She walked past dark taverns where shadowed figures talked low
outside over cigarettes whose ends burned bright. She passed always
the ordinary figures in the brightly lit laundromat, of whom she
was inexplicably jealous.

Fists for Hands

I couldn’t hold my pencil in school, therefore I never learned to write cursive. But one thing I could do, I could throw a mean punch in any direction and this made kids run for cover.

The Space Between

He sought to erase her from his mind rather than to become plagued
by the weight of his inactions and her devilish silence. He believed
one should always prepare for the future by releasing the present
and dreaming the past.