What do you call a scab that covers the entirety of your skin—the organ that takes the brunt when everything goes well, when everything goes to shit?

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With no further ado, we’re pleased to announce the top three prize­winners in our 2018 Fall/Winter Fiction Contest!

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We know the feeling of two arms embracing. But what is the feeling of one arm embracing?

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A moment: there’s nothing more brief or revisited; enjoyable or painful; life-changing or damning. Moments are the kindle of dreams and nightmares.

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They say that love’s not a game for three. But then again, they’re not a woman in her fifties—and they’ve never met Jamie.

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We’re the most common item found in this two-bit overworld, but as we warped down the ultrasonic tunnel black, what I saw was a rather uncommon glow.

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There are depths unknown, unexplored by our bodies. Waters so blue, bluer than your eyes when you’re lost in one of your moods.

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Spring when knowledge felt like teenage love: blush, some words—branching out, tasting, opening, until the last hour of Summer light.

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An agreement between rival yet tightly bound siblings casts eerie reverberations through one’s late-life pursuit of love.

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